Pran of Albania

Pran of Albania

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PRAN OF ALBANIA

BOOKS BY

ELIZABETH CLEVELAND MILLER

CHILDREN OF THE MOUNTAIN EAGLE
PRAN OF ALBANIA

L

'^

P R A N

OF ALBANIA

h

ELIZABETH

CLEVELAND

MILLER

Illustrated
by

MAUD y MISKA
PETERSHAM

Junior Books
DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC

GARDEN CITY NEW YORK

I94I

COPYRIGHT, 1929
3V DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, IMC

ALL "^ICHTS RESERVED

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
AMERICAN BOOK-STRATFORD PRESS. INC., NEW YORK

DEDICATED TO

PALOK SHKIEZI

AND

REXH METE

U.S. bZ'UZd

I

L

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. GUESTS BY THE FIRE i

II. MAN OF THE BLACK FACE 14

III. NUSH 3C

IV. FEAST DAY 51

V. FRAN'S ERRAND 73

VI. MOUNTAIN FIRE 87

VII. LIT SKY 99

VIII. REFUGEE 114

IX. NEWS AND A JOURNEY 134

X. FRAN LISTENS 153

XL BACK TO THETHI 17?

XII. LUKJA'S SECRET 190

XIII. NUSH AGAIN 210

XIV. FRAN SPEAKS 229

XV. FRAN'S DAY 246

:a

PRAN OF ALBANIA

CHAPTER I

GUESTS BY THE FIRE

THE firelight shone a soft glow in the dim room.
The mountain people of these far Albanian
highlands, men and women, were crouched around
the low central hearth. There was silence save for the
rushing noise of the tiny brook that crossed the yard
outside.

Pran, who was only fourteen and not entitled to a
place by the fire when there were so many guests,
sat on the rough floor planks in a dark corner, knit-
ting. Her fingers, used to the work since she was a
very little girl, needed no light nor watching even;
so, as her slim needles flew she let her eyes wander
about the shadowy room and rest at last on the group
of six people sitting so quietly by her father's hearth.
They would speak soon and she could listen, but
now she would look at them and study out each face
and what might lie behind it.

The square raised hearth was in the center of the
room, and the four men and two women were in a
circle round it. There was her father Ndrek. His

2 PRAN OF ALBANIA

back was toward her. No need to study him. She
knew him. He was fine looking, tall, aquiline fea-
tured, and his gray mustache swept out either side
over his firm mouth, and under his heavy brows
glowed the deep blue eyes — cold eyes, some thought
them But she knew the warmth of them since, a baby
girl clad only in a dingy cotton shift, she had sat near
him playing with the great silver chain he wore over
his shoulder or hunting in the folds of his wound
colored girdle for sweet nuts and berries hidden
there for her. Now he sat, his legs in their tight
white woolen trousers crossed Turk fashion, and in
his hand the massive silver holder that had at one
end his smoking cigarette.

Across from him and farther from the warmth, as
courtesy demanded, crouched her mother, Lukja —
"Nona'' Pran called her — "nona iamia," my mo-
ther. She was dressed in heavy wool like Pran her-
self, but all her clothing black where Pran's was
white. "That's because she is married and I'm not,"
thought Pran, "I'll wear that color too when I am
wedded, and that broad leather belt all studded
over with small glittering nail heads." Pran looked
long into her mother's face that, turned a bit from
the fire, was lost half in blackness and half lit white
with the fire's glow.

GUESTS BY THE FIRE 3

"She IS sad to-night/* Pran told herself, letting
her needles rest quiet a minute. **Why is she sad?"
There was calm beauty in her mother's face, a loveli-
ness of line that Pran could hardly see, she knew the
face so well. To her it was so loved and so familiar
she could not have told what there was in it beauti-
ful, but she could see the meaning in it always. To-
night she knew something had made her mother sad.
She puzzled, wondering.

What had the guests said? What news had they
brought? When first they came Pran had been absent
from the upper room, for she had been below, pen-
ning in the goats and sheep and chickens for the
night. What had the news been? Guests always
brought news. Only through passing friends and
strangers could a mountain household learn what
happened anywhere. Thethi, with its scattered
village houses lay so far off, so near the dangerous
edge of enemy country, that all news came slowly.
Pran studied the four visitors while her fingers flew.
Three men there were — tall likeher father, all of them.
One had fair eyes and hair and was quite young.
His mouth was set a little firmly under his light
mustache, but his eyes were frank eyes, friendly.
The man beside him was older and dark eyed, with a
long black mustache, and he sat looking at the red

4 PRAN OF ALBANIA

coals of the fire, not moving. Thought held him —
thoughts of important things, and Pran knew by the
drooped comers of his mouth and the hard Hnes
beside it that these thoughts were not all pleasant.
The oldest man was stooped a bit with age, for his
hair was nearly white and his faded gray eyes were
set deep under white brows. He watched Ndrek's
face sharply, though his glance slid now and then to
where her mother sat, or rested on the glowing end of
his own cigarette. He puffed slowly at it. **I trust
him," thought Pran. **He comes on some friendly
business here to us. He holds himself, in spite of
stooping, as a chief should. Perhaps he is a chief."

The three rifles that the men had carried, as all
men did in the mountain country, she could see hang-
ing by her father's own, on the wall, close to the
room's entrance. Where had they all come from.?
They were dressed much as Ndrek was, only the
broad black braid that seamed the trousers and the
short tight jackets was set differently on the cloth,
and just below the brilliant wound girdles and
the belts of cartridges the design worked was different
from that her mother always made on Ndrek's
clothes. It was more intricately curved and turned,
and here and there were bright scarlet insets. Pretty
the color was, but Pran could not remember, if she

GUESTS BY THE FIRE 5

had ever known, what mountain tribe it was that
wore that special ornament. Yes, they came from
far off, certainly.

The woman with them was her mother's age and
seemed to know Lukja well. They sat close by each
other, drawn back a bit, and now Pran saw they
spoke softly together, and intimately as old friends
might speak, *' Perhaps,'' thought Pran, ** before
either married they were sisters of the same tribe,
born in the self-same village." Now she heard snatches
of their talk and heard Lukja ask news of this one
and of that. Yes, that was it, they had been girls to-
gether.

*'And now your son is grown," her mother said.
** Indeed, Gjyl, there is no time at all between a
boy's cradle and his manhood. One day he cries
strapped to the cradle board; the next he shngs his
rifle on his back."

"Asht e vertet," repHed the woman. "It is true";
and in her voice Pran heard a sorrow speak. Now why
was that ^

Lukja smiled gently, as if comforting, and said,
pointing to the farthest dark corner, "There sleep
my twin sons, Gjon and Nikola. They came to me
eight harvests back — the two at once. Good luck
indeed, after our having had only a girl for years."

6 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Her mother looked over to where Pran sat. "But
you must see my girl, Gjyl. Pran, come here." And
now the sadness in her mother's face was gone,
and her brown eyes that matched Pran's own,
looked gladly at Pran, who rose and came shyly for-
ward to the light and answered softly the strange
woman's greeting. She bent over Gjyl, and taking
her hand in hers she pressed it to her forehead, then
to her heart. She murmured, "T'y ngiat tieta!
A long hfe!" And "Blessed be your feet that they
have found the trail that led to our house door."
She stood then silently, fixing her eyes on her own
rawhide sandals, for there was a custom that young
girls should show a shamed and modest face before
strange eyes.

Her mother laid a hand on Pran's arm. "This
woman, Gjyl, was raised next door to me in Gjoanni.
We herded our sheep together at your age, Pran.
She married a Merturi man and went far off to hve
with him as I did when I married Ndrek and came
out here to Thethi. Years we have not met, and now
at last she comes into our house. But sorrow comes
with her, for her man, the father to her son, is dead —
suddenly last week. He was in blood."

Pran understood what those last words meant, for
in the wildness of the mountain land was only moun-

GUESTS BY THE FIRE 7

tain law, and that law rested on a man's rifle. Pran
knew that men avenged blood with blood, as honor
bound them to do.

Her mother's voice went on, "Long has Gjyl
journeyed, and her feet are weary with the way."
Pran knew now what was in her mother's mind.
**Go then, daughter of the house, and get water
ready that you may bathe her feet and wash her
weariness away. For though her heart must go un-
comforted I would her body should find comfort here
in my man's house."

Pran left the room and took her way down the
dark stone stairway at the side that led under the
house floor where the animals were penned and
chickens squawked, and where a second fire burned
dimly in a high chimney place set against the wall.
As she went down her feet shod in their rawhide
moccasins made a soft brushing noise against the
stone. She could hear the voices of the men talking
again together, and then the fierce flaring crackle of
a faggot bundle someone had set to burn over the
coals.

Pran moved softly about the lower room. First she
found wood and blewon the live coals until they blazed.
And then she took from a great iron hook above the
flame the heavy black iron pot and set it on the earth

8 PRAN OF ALBANIA

floor. Then she filled it from the wooden keg of
spring water — not too full, for Gjyl must not have
too long to wait upstairs. She lifted the pot with
strong arms and swung it to the hook and laid more
wood. Then she got from a wooden peg on the wall
two bits of cloth — one dingy and one white and edged
with red, a towel bought in Skodra market and
meant for use at times like this when honor must be
done to any guest. Then she sat down cross-legged
on the floor to wait until the water should be warm.
She thought about the people up above. No one of
those three men, then, was Gjyl's husband, for
Gjyrs man had been killed, her mother said. The old
man — he was Gjyrs husband's father, certainly.
And the other two? Brothers, most likely, to the man
who had died. Then they *'owed blood." Pran under-
stood all this. The brothers of a man avenged his
death. They had to — that was law. Until they did,
the honor of their house was smirched, and this
dishonor descended on the children. So these feuds,
backbone of mountain law and mountain justice,
lasted for generations, or until a "bessa," or a truce,
was made between the families or tribes that were
involved. This all seemed right to Pran. This was
the way good was secured, and evil men in a wild
lawless land were kept from doing wrong.

GUESTS BY THE FIRE 9

But there was sadness in a good man's death.
Was that the reason why her mother's face had sad-
dened so a while ago? Perhaps. Pran wondered.

Now a goat bleated. Pran knew the voice. It was
her favorite, the Httle one, brown and shaggy Hke all
the other goats, yet having on its nose a round white
spot, so that she called it *'Hana" or "the moon.*'
She got up and ran over to the pen wall that, made
of woven branches, did not shut the animals from
sight; and looking through the bars she saw Hana's
white spotted nose pressed to an opening between.
She reached her fingers through and scratched the
kid's nose while the little thing stamped a bit and
moved its body knowingly as if to say, "I knew my
Pran was here. I knew she'd come and say good-
night."

"You rascal," Pran laughed softly back, "I know
what you are after." She stripped a green-leaved
branch from a bundle of branches hung out of the
goat's reach and stuck it inside the pen. The kid
nibbled happily. "Hana, the moon," Pran thought.
"She is well named, for, like the moon, she never rests
content but must be seeking always."

To her ears there came a purring noise. The pot
was on the boil. Hot enough now. Too hot. "Careless
IVe been, and stayed too long." She took the pot ofF

lO PRAN OF ALBANIA

and poured the hot water into a tin can; then spilled
a bit of cold water from the keg to temper it. ** Blood
warm." She laid the two cloths over one arm and
took a firm grasp of the thin wire handle of the can.

She mounted the stone steps again. The men were
drinking coffee now. She saw the httle brass sauce-
pan bubble on the coals, and Ndrek poured out the
thick liquid into the two tiny china bowls and handed
them with the courteous words for coffee drinking to
the two older men. He set the little pot to boil again.
They talked in quiet voices. The dark eyed man was
speaking to Ndrek of payment to be made in goats
and sheep and sacks of meal. Payment for what?
Pran wondered.

Then she saw where Gjyl waited for her. Pran set
her burden on the floor and got a wooden bowl and
set it before Gjyl, and near it the water can, and her
two cloths. Gjyl, as custom prompted, turned herself
from the hearth, while Lukja brought a low threG:-
legged stool and Gjyl drew herself up on it.

Meanwhile Pran knelt down at GjyFs feet. First
she undid the buckle holding the rawhide "opanga,"
then drew them gently off. After that the heavy
knitted "shputa" — slipperlike, they were, and gayly
decorated with gold thread and brilliant colors on
the dark red ground. Pran admired them, and even

I

GUESTS BY THE FIRE II

as she laid them by she studied the design to make it
later on the pair she knitted now. The stiff socks^
knitted in the design of Giyl's tribe, came next; and
now, while Gjyl and Lukja talked, Pran began her
work of foot washing. She filled the wooden bowl
with water and with the small cloth gently bathed
GjyFs feet, first one, and dried it with the soft towel,
and then the other. She felt a pride in doing this, for
it was not long that she had been entrusted with
this service of hospitality. She did it well too, splash-
ing no water and using deft, gentle hands. Someone
had told her that not the warm water only but the
touch of skillful hands gave comfort to a guest's
weary feet.

Pran did not put on again the rain-wet footwear.
The three men were barefoot by the fire now. Bare
feet were not unusual at the hearth after long miles of
walking on the rough stony trails and through the
snow of high passes. So Pran stood and reached
above her head and hung Giyl's socks and shoes on
one of the loose woven branches that made the low
ceiHng. Here were the men's socks too. Here the
rising heat would dry them all.

"Glory to your hands, Pran," Gjyl said to thank
her when she had done.

Pran smiled back at her and sat down beside her

12 PRAN OF ALBANIA

mother, listening again to the men's talk. They made
a bargain, so it seemed to her. They talked of au-
tumn, too, the marriage season. Was this betrothal
talk.? Her heart fluttered a little. She was not be-
trothed, though many girls were promised so soon
as they were born. That was the custom here.

Her mother broke hurriedly into the men's talk.
"'Tis enough, Ndrek. Time does not press us."

Ndrek shot at her a good-humored look. "Women
are like that," he told the men, and all three smiled
while Lukja gave them back a Httle laugh. But Pran,
watching her mother's face, saw over it that little
cloud of sadness pass and disappear.

Gjyl said, **My son next year will bear his father's
gun. He is a boy, but boys grow to be men over-
night." She paused. *'I wish it were not so."

"So women always talk," Ndrek said banteringly,
and the old white-haired man looked sharply where
Pran and the two women sat. He said, "Mothers
would keep a son, or daughter either, tied in the
cradle always. And they never fail to cry out with
wonder when the grown child bursts through the
cradle bands of his own strength."

"He that is born a cat must catch the mice," the
youngest man said teasingly.

GUESTS BY THE FIRE I3

"True enough," answered Lukja, "but remember,
it is the spoon that knows what's in the dish."

Now what did all that mean? Pran wondered.
Sometimes the grown-ups talked over her head, and
proverbs answered each other too quickly for her
ears.

Lukja turned to her now. "Go underneath,
daughter, and catch and cut a hen that we may give
a fitting feast to-night for all our friends."

"Supper time," thought Pran. "The evening
bread," she called it to herself. As she went out she
thought, "Good food to-night, and after we shall
hear good singing." She hummed a little as she went
below, while Lukja rose to mix the cornbread in a
wooden bowl.

CHAPTER II

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE

PRAN boiled the chicken on the lower fire. Her
mother baked the cornbread in the hot ashes
of the hearth upstairs. Pran carried water around
and poured it over the hands that everyone held out.
Goat's cheese, wet and strong smelling, was brought,
and the four men feasted, squatting about the low
round table and lifting out hot bits of steaming
chicken from the central bowl with careful fingers.

Lukja, Gjyl, and Pran ate afterward. The men, as
custom was, left plenty for them. The supper done,
the guests praised Pran and Lukja for their cooking,
and Pran, with the little broom of bound twigs,
swept the crumbs into the fire.

All turned again to the hearth which Ndrek piled
high with faggots. Pran sat down close to her mother.
Songs would come now. The men rolled and inserted
cigarettes into their long holders. She watched each
take the tiny iron tongs and pick a live coal from the
flames to hold against the cigarette end. They
smoked at first in silence. Then Ndrek made courte-

14

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE 1 5

ous request. "A song would be welcome in such
company. Would one of you furnish good entertain-
ment for us all and earn our praise and gratitude at
once? Who sings .f* Who will sing?"

The younger men acknowledged the invitation,
conferred a moment. Then the dark one dropped his
lids over his black eyes, and taking hold of his ear
lobes with his two hands he straightened, drew a
deep breath, and sang, raising his voice in a high
nasal tone that rang in the dim room, filHng the
darkest corners with the throbbing, sharp sound.
One line he sang and waited. The youth took up the
song, repeating the same line. The dark one sang
again, the young one answered. So the song went.
Pran did not know the words, the song was new. But
she knew that when the last Tne came both men
would sing it in unison and then wait for the thanks
that followed always: "Glory be to your mouth!"

She sat very still listening.

"In the prefect's chair sits Solqa Begut;
In Skodra sits he in his chair of state;
Draws from his girdle his great silver watch,
Cries in a loud voice, *Up, men, arise, prepare!
Up, men, go, loose the horses' tethers.
Arm yourselves, mount, and ride to the border.

l6 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Ride to the border where the foe will strike.
Even now the Slavs are burning our villages,
Even now set they fire to Albania!'
In the wink of an eye "

But the voice of the dark man stopped midway in
the line. Pran heard the fierce bark of the wolf dog in
the yard followed at once by the battering as of a gun
butt on the huge wooden door below.

Silence fell on the upper room. The fire crackled,
and the two boys in their corner turned in their
sleep. Pran, startled, drew in a sharp breath, but no
one else stirred. Only Ndrek's eyes met those of the
old man across the fire. The latter threw back his
head in the mountain sign for "no." By that glance
Ndrek asked, ** Friends of yours following you.?'* and
by the thrown back head the old man denied knowl-
edge of who could be coming.

It was late — too late for guests. Pran watched her
father. He rose silently and went down the stone
stairs; for he, as head of the house, must slide the
great wooden bar that closed the door and open to
the man outside, whoever he might be.

Something clutched at Pran's heart. She whispered
to her mother, "Nona, I fear."

Lukja gave her a stern look, reprimanding, and

i

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE I7

her quiet voice answered so that only Pran heard,
**Fear has no place here, daughter/' Pran felt a
little shame.

Below Ndrek shot back the bolt, and they could
hear his greeting, **Long life! Enter and welcome.
All my house is yours." And now a man's deep voice
answered, and footsteps followed Ndrek's returning
footsteps up the stairs.

Only Pran's eyes and Lukja's sought the door
when the two men came in. The guests sat smoking,
and the woman Gjyl looked into the red coals, waiting.

"Mark Gjeloshit of Hoti," Ndrek gave the man's
name.

Now the rest looked and gave each a mountain
greeting. **Long life!'* — "Long life!" — "How have
you made the trail .f"' — "Are you wearied out?"
— "Praise God you are safe come."

Pran looked hard at the newcomer as he answered
each greeting carefully. He was sandy haired and
heavy featured and shorter than the other men.
His words, spoken slowly, as if with thought, were
touched with a strange accent. To Pran it seemed
he was not one of themselves — not Maltsor. And yet
Hoti was his tribe — so he had told Ndrek on coming
\n. Hoti — well, Hoti was far off. Perhaps men there
talked differently. Besides, Pran knew that all the

1 8 PRAN OF ALBANIA

land of Hoti and the tribe itself had lain for several
years now under enemy rule. She could remember as
a little girl hearing the talk of Hoti — the invaders
and the burning villages they left behind them. Yes,
then Hoti had been indeed lost to the Eagle's Land —
Hoti and Gruda both — and lay outside Albania now.
But the tribes there were mountain tribes — the men
were Maltsor, like those of her own tribe — Shala.
Now they lay helpless in enemy hands, and cruel
injustices were done against the people and their
pride ground into the earth, themselves oppressed.
She knew all this.

Was this man Mark oppressed.? Pran looked at
him. He did not look miserable at all — not even
poor. He was dressed in fine new-made clothing,
glistening white; and over chest and shoulders, lying
on the dark red cloth of his tight under jacket glit-
tered heavy silver chains of filigree, set here and there
with semi-precious stones. The handle of his pistol
too was carved silver and jeweled likewise. He wore
about his waist two cartridge belts. These were all
signs of riches in a man. Pran knew that, and she
knew that in a man like this such signs boded no
good. In the lost territories under foreign rule the
men who stayed loyal to their own land, Albania^
were persecuted and were often forced to give up

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE I9

lands and cattle — all their wealth — even to silver
ornaments and valuable weapons such as Mark bore.
While men who were willing to forget and to betray
their own land and people, men who would make
open friends with the invader, prospered exceedingly
and gained lands, herds, and wealth and went in fine
clothes and silver chains, as Mark did now.

How well Pran knew all this! Even now, looking
at the man, her heart beat hard in a moment's
anger. For those silver chains became at once in her
eyes traitor's pay, bribes dealt out for treachery.
She did not like this man. She watched him hang his
rifle by the door and seat himself beside the hearth
while he cast rapid glances round the group — glances
that said as plainly as words could say, **Have I
friends here.?"

Pran drew back in the shadows beyond the fire's
circle and took out her knitting, thinking, **Now I
shall watch unwatched. That will be best."

No looks answered Mark, though the old Merturi
man held out his shallow box of tobacco and gave
also paper for a cigarette. Mark rolled one, setting
the smaller end of the wrapped cone into a huge
holder of rich silver workmanship which he drew out
of his belt. Ndrek made coffee in the coals for him.

Pran listened. Neither of the women spoke, and

%0 PRAN OF ALBANIA

they had drawn back a little from the hearth. Ndrek
and the stranger talked of the trail, and Mark gave
reason for his journeying this way. The reason had to
do with purchases of cartridges in Gjakova across the
border east. Gjakova road was not too safe for any
mountaineer, for that land had fallen into enemy
hands a long while back; but Mark showed no con-
cern. The rest of the group, though listening, did not
join but sat silently smoking. Pran wondered if
one of the Merturi men would offer Mark a puff from
his own holder, handing the lighted cigarette from
his own mouth to Mark's. That would be sign of
friendship and of trust. But no one did.

"They do not trust him any more than I," thought
Pran, and dropped her eyes, knitting faster than
before. Mark must not know she watched him. Still
she did.

He sat cross-legged. Now he lighted another
cigarette, leaning his heavy-featured face close to the
red coals, and drawing in breath through the great
bead of orange amber at his holder's end./*Chillibar,"
Pran called amber, and she knew an end like that
was sign of more wealth than was the black wooden
end on Ndrek's holder. Thought Pran, "He got that
holder too for evil work — betrayal of his tribe to the
Slavs."

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE 21

She watched. Mark Gjeloshit drank coflFee, looking
at Ndrek. To Pran his face wore friendship Hke a
mask. "For good to you/' Ndrek said gravely as
the man took the cup. And Mark answered "May
you too find good," and lifted up the hot cup to his
lips. As he raised his head she saw under his chin a
slanting livid streak. "Scar of an old wound" she
thought, and told herself, "This man has been close
to death. So close that he dares risk himself again."
His words rang in her ears, "May you too find
good." Those were the words that went with coflFee
drinking, but now they sounded hollow, had not
truth in them. More and more Pran felt sure the man
had come on evil business. What business.'' She must
Hsten for a clue.

The three Merturi men joined in the talk now.
But to Pran's ears the talk was guarded talk, and
Mark asked guarded questions, false innocence be-
hind them.

"Were the crops good this fall.'^"

"Po, bessa," Ndrek answered, and shook his head
for "yes." "They were indeed. Each house has com
in plenty."

But Pran knew that he held back some of the
truth, for though certain corn lands had yielded
royally, there had been larger tracts where the plant-

22 PRAN OF ALBANIA

ings had failed to come up at all or where the yield
had scarce repaid the owner for his work. And there
were villages — not Thethi, to be sure, but not far
off — where many families would go hungry certainly
before the spring. Ndrek kept all these facts away
from Mark. He talked in such a way that Mark
could not have told from anything he said that there
was famine danger in the border towns. Neverthe-
less, Mark spoke as if he knew of food shortage
somewhere, for after some talk of rains he set his
empty cup down on the floor and said, "There is
always corn across the border. The Slavs never suffer
our distress. And I have heard'' — he flashed a quick
glance round — "when crops fail in our border coun-
try, help and fresh provender are set for sale — or gift —
across the line.'*

Unsmiling, Ndrek said, "Across the line lies
enemy land, and to my mind bullets and bread don't
mix. We men of Shala spurn a sack of meal that
hides a dagger at the bottom of it."

Mark answered, "No dagger hides for men like
you, Ndrek."

"Then," said Ndrek, "I should pay high indeed —
betray my land that I and mine might eat." His voice
rang now a little fiercely, and his eyes met Mark's
eyes over the smouldering hearth between them.

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE 23

"Mark Gjeloshit, hear my words now. Better is free*
dom with an empty stomach than slavery with a
full one."

The man sat motionless, only his fingers moved
nervously to and fro along the silver chain that hung
around his neck. "Why talk of slavery.^" he said and
smiled disarmingly.

Suddenly spoke the white-haired man from Mer-
turi, and his voice was harsh with pent feeling, though
his face was like a face carved out of stone. His eyes
blazed into Mark's. *"Tis slavery to Ndrek's tribe
and mine to sell ourselves and all our villages into
the enemy's hands — for silver chains."

Anger flamed in Mark's eyes, and, though he did
not move, his voice rose menacing, "You hurl an
insult, man!"

Slowly the hands of the two younger men dropped
to their wrapped belts and rested on the carved
metal handles of their long pistols. Now the blond
youth spoke in a controlled, hard voice, **Mark,
Son-of-Gjelosh — if that be your name — go, tell
whatever friends a traitor has that it will take more
than corn rattling in a sifter to scare off the bear."

Pran's heart was beating furiously now, though
still she made her knitting needles fly in and out as if
she thought nothing of these words the men ex-

24 PRAN OF ALBANIA

changed. But she thought much and took the mean-
ing of it plainly. She understood that Mark had
meant to ask the Merturi men and Ndrek, and
their tribes through them, to join in treachery to
their own land by making secret friends with the
Slavs; so that when the invaders reached the border
villages all would lie clear before them — none re-
sist. And she knew that Ndrek and the old man
had answered him with firm refusal, and the last
words had been defiance for Mark to take back to his
master — the King of the Southern Slavs. And she
knew that no one of the men believed Mark was
Maltsor — or native of the Eagle's Land. His name
was false as he himself was false.

Now he was angry, and the Merturi men were
angry too; and here in the mountains anger some-
times led to drawn knives and pistols — bloodshed —
and the long unforgiven quarrel of the feud. Her
breath caught sharply. Would it come to that?
And in her father's house .^^ She knew as host Ndrek
was held responsible — must answer maybe with his
own life — for trouble that took place under his
roof. Her needles were still now. She watched the
men in mounting terror — fascinated. Ndrek rose.
He stepped quietly toward his rifle on the wall,
fingered the lock, and came back slowly to the fire.

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE 2$

A perfect silence filled the dim room. No one of the
four men made movement now. Ndrek said, **Mark
Gjeloshit, and you three men of Merturi, bear in
mind, all of you, th?t you are guests in Ndrek
Palokit's house. Each of you has drunk coffee by my
fire. Think — all that you do here comes on my head,
for I am host and so am answerable. Cease then from
anger; only know, you meet and talk beside a peace-
ful hearth, hearth of a peaceful man who is in blood
not with Hoti nor with Merturi either. Nor would
be."

He sat down. The stranger laughed. "Merturi is too
hot blooded. I but joked of the Slavs' help. 'Tis true
that riches keep off hunger, but I would never sell my
country for my stomach's peace. I am as upright
and as honorable as any here. Pardon — and forgive
me, men of Merturi and you, Ndrek, my host, if any
idle word of mine has set a man's hand searching for
his gun. Let us be friends."

Fran heard this with relief. But in his voice she
heard the liar's tones. She knew that fear made him
take back his words and that there was no truth in
him. But her heart that had been choking her stopped
its wild beating, and her breath came slowly as she
took up again her half-knitted sHpper.

The Merturi men seemed to accept Mark's words.

b

26 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Each smiled a grim smile and each rolled with steady
fingers a fresh cigarette. The young dark man said,
"No matter, Mark. The smoke of words blows away
quickly. Only the smoke of a rifle lasts down the
years — and our guns have not spoken. Good luck
to you, man of Hoti."

Ndrek sat down. Talk turned to other things. But
was it accident that Ndrek told so carefully the
number of flocks, the size of herds in every border
town.? Or did he want Mark to know that meat and
clothing would not fail here in this section for a long
time yet? Pran listened. Ndrek spoke carelessly, it
seemed, brought up the subject of old border wars,
when Shala and the neighboring tribes had held the
passes against enemy forces with heavy losses to the
enemy. He made a swift count of the houses in each
border village, and he even told as if to prove the
tribe's increase of strength the number of men of
rifle-bearing age. ** Shala breeds sons," he said.

Pran felt sure that Ndrek gave deliberately in-
formation meant for Mark to carry back as news of
Shala's strength, that the Slavs might know the
impregnable wall of able fighting men that Shala
and all the tribes around her could set up to daunt
the invader. And Pran could hear that Ndrek counted
twice and even three times some houses, and that

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE 27

where a family had only one son he gave out to Mark
that there were two or three, and in the same way
gave exaggerated count of animals. She knew he did
this so that Mark should not suspect the desperate
truth, that poverty, and scarcity of food, and lack
of cattle ran through all this section. Mark was the
enemy, and to an enemy one must pretend the
strength that one has not. So Ndrek, heavy hearted,
made pretense — to save his people if he could.
Pran*s heart went out to him, wishing success.

Now Lukja brought the coffee things, and Ndrek
made coffee again for all. And he pressed Mark to
stay that night and sleep beside the fire with them.
Pran knew he would not stay. No man would choose
to spend a night with men who did not trust him.

Mark thanked Ndrek and rose, tightening his belt
and strapping on his rifle for the trail. He said fare-
wells, and Ndrek took him down to the door. They
could hear his feet tread swiftly down the trail.

The fire was nearly out. Ndrek laid on it one more
stick — a large one that would flicker through the
night. The three guests and he smoked silently to-
gether for good-night. Lukja took Pran and Gjyl to
one side of the room where a wide woven shelf with
blankets on it offered a sleeping place. Pran lay down
between the two women.

28 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Darkness grew deeper as the flames died down. She
heard Ndrek and the three men unwind their girdles
and then lay themselves down feet to the hearth to
sleep. Only a few words passed among them.

The old man said, "Always before the serpent
strikes he sends one of his own sort ahead to find if
money can turn foes to friends.''

The youngest laughed. "Well, word will go back
to-night that Shala's not for sale and that she stands
stronger than any knew, ready to fight."

"Good-night."— "Sleep easily."— "Good-night."
No one spoke again.

Pran lay a long time thinking. Mark's visit had
driven out of her mind her earlier curiosity as to the
reason for the coming of the old man and his sons.
She thought now only of Mark. He had come spying
and if possible to buy friendship for the enemy, the
Slavs. He would go back disappointed, and assured of
fighting strength and perfect loyalty along the border
— but did that mean that the Slavs would not strike.?
Or did it mean only that they would seek a breach in
the wall — a faithless bairak where the villages, lack-
ing in food or courage, would give in and open a path
for their enemy into the heart of the north mountain
country, so coveted by the Slavs ^

Pran drew herself gently up until she could see the

MAN OF THE BLACK FACE 29

faint flicker of the flame on the hearth, the glowing
coals, and the four sleeping figures of the men. In
that dark corner over beyond the hearth slept the
two little brothers. On each side of her she felt the
warm bodies of her mother and of Gjyl. They slept
too. Only she was awake. How safe they all were,
shut in Ndrek's house ! And yet — were they as safe as
they had been before this man Mark had come in on
them — spying, with treachery? — Man of the black
face ! That was what he was.

As she lay down there sounded in her ears words
and the high shrieking tune of an old song — even
the name was his name:

"Man of the black face — flee no farther,
Before seven kingdoms you are disgraced,
Mark Mulani, Mark Militsi,"

And then again, "Burra, me facet i zi! Man of the
black face!" Pran's thoughts wandered into un-
easy dreams. She slept.

CHAPTER III

NUSH

GJON, Nik, you lazy little cucumbers, what are
you doing so long?** Pran stood in the yard
near the little brook that crossed it. She wore her
white stiff wool jacket, but the sleeves of it hung
empty, for the sun was warm, and to be cooler she
had slipped her arms out through the under-arm
openings. Her skirt, with its strips of horizontal black
and white, stood out around her, and her head and
neck were doubly wrapped from the sun's heat with
whitish cloths. Over her shoulder wound about
several times was a strong braided rope of goat's hair.
Her woolen blouse bulged where she had thrust her
knitting in. To-day she and her brothers went for
fresh green branches — fodder for the sheep and goats
all winter. Pran and her mother would pile them in a
great stack in the yard, the stems out and the leafy
ends of them turned inward, so that by their own
dampness they would keep green and juicy all
through the cold months when no beast could go to
pasture. She needed the twin boys, for they were light

30

NUSH 31

enough to climb the httle trees and cut the branches
off.

Now she waited none too patiently. Then called
again: "Come, you two rascals. The day will be gone
before we get to work. We've far to go."

The house door opened slowly, as if too heavy for
the hands that pushed it; opened and let tumble out
the two small brothers, chuckling and pushing at
each other.

Each wore long tight trousers such as the men
wore, small jackets over, and their waists wound
with the colored girdles. In each belt a lump showed
where they had tucked their bread and cheese, and,
hidden safely under a tight-wrapped strip, each car-
ried his knife, the sharp blade doubled back into the
protecting horn of the handle. On each round, well-
shaped head was set a tiny white cup-like cap so that
each looked to be Ndrek in miniature, lacking the
cartridge belt and rifle only. Their fair hair had been
shaved clean off save for a scalp lock hidden under
the cap. Nik's eyes were hazel, lighter than Pran's
own, but Gjon had dark eyes, and his face was thin-
ner than chubby Nik's. Both boys were eight years
old, though even their mother had forgotten that.
Birthdays did not count in the mountains; but
every year, on the saint's day whose name he bore,

32 PRAN OF ALBANIA

a name-day celebration was made for each boy, and
there were a feast and songs, and presents given.

Pran motioned downward with her curved hand,
bending it toward herself — the sign for **come."
*'Come — quickly, Nik! Come, Gjon!"

They stopped their puppy play and ran to her.

Nik said, " 'Twas Gjon who made you wait so
long. He had to have so large a piece of cornbread
that he was eating when I was all done. A little pig
he is!"

And Gjon defended, "I was through long before
and had to wait for Nik to find his knife. The truth
is, when he gets to be a man, he'll lose his own life
looking for his gun, and who will mourn a man not
smart enough to keep his weapon by him.^"

Two pairs of eyes glared at each other, while Pran,
as if to break the spell, reached a hand to each head
and cracked the two together, laughing and saying,
"You are two good-for-nothings, both of you. Quick,
now, set your bare toes on the trail behind me, and
trot, little donkeys, trot!"

She started oflF out of the yard, and Nik, the quick-
er, got his place ahead of Gjon. They took the steep
trail down the rocky flat Thethi was built on, crossed
on a wobbly wooden bridge over the stream below,
and went along a level place until the sun had

NUSH 33

climbed an hour in the morning sky. Pran knitted as
she walked. The twins sang lustily, a song they had
learned in Skodra from a schoolboy there. The words
sent Pran's thoughts back to the visit of the Hoti
man. The children shrieked them out.

*'How they weep, how they weep,
My mothers and my sisters !
How they weep, how they weep,
My mothers and my sisters!
Come, men, gather on the rock's top.
Follow, men, follow after the flag.
Rifle shots shatter the air.
The flag flutters in the wind,
For hberty let me die!"

"That song," she thought, **must have come from
the mountains, even though the music of it is not
mountain music. It is the mountaineers who live
always on the edge of enemy land, and the women
mourn when the men go out to die for the safety of
Albania."

It was a good month now since Mark, man of the
black face, had come and spoken treachery and gone
off" alone down the trail. Pran had not thought of him
till to-day, when the boys' song brought him back to
her mind. She watched Nikola and Gjon, who had

34 PRAN OF ALBANIA

passed her and raced each other, still shouting out the
song as their feet clambered over the rough trail.
She looked at the bright sunshine flooding the clear
sky and making the farthest hills stand cleanly forth.
How safe her mountains were! How could danger
make its way here ? She shook her apprehension from
her and herself joined in the singing, placing her
voice an octave lower than the boys, using a deep
tone, as the women did. "For liberty let me die!"
Strong were the Eagle's sons. No foe could break
the wall of their resistance, for did they not prize
freedom more than Hfe? Her heart rose.

They climbed and rested by a wayside cross, and
then the trail dipped lower. The stones were fewer
underneath their feet, and soon the way led on
softer earth through a little woods. Once out of this
they saw stretching before them a southern hillside,
broad and set out with sparse trees larger than any
they had seen yet, but pruned from many cuttings,
so that the trunks looked stunted while they bore a
great plenty of sHm leafy branches — ^just the kind
they sought for the fodder stack.

"Here we begin," said Pran, who recognized the
hillside as the one Ndrek had told them to gather in.
She led the way under the trees and slipped her
coiled rope off her shoulder. The boys gamboled

NUSH 35

about her, pleased that the fun of climbing would

^^s'"- . U, Sf^ .^ 1 o ,j J

"You go up this tree, Gjon," she said and led him
to the nearest slim trunk. He clasped it, arms and
legs, and up he went. Once in the branches he drew
out his knife, and climbing out on the thicker
boughs he cut off a long leafed twig and set it floating
down to Pran. He cut another then, and another,
climbing here and there so that no single part of the
tree should be too well stripped and suffer a wither-
ing. The twigs began to fall fast, for Gjon worked
steadily.

Meanwhile Pran had set Nik to work in a tree
near by, and now she set about her own business.
As the boys cut she gathered up the slim branches in
a leafy pile that grew and grew. And when each boy
went to another tree she followed, carrying back the
new-cut twigs to where the rest were piled. They
worked with little talking. Though it was autumn the
sun glared hotly as it got nearer noon. Both the boys
threw down their woolen jackets so that the dry air
blew coolingly through their cotton blouses.

Now they began to work in rivalry. Each watched
the other as he himself cut and clipped. 'Tm cutting
faster than you, Gjon!" called Nik. **I have twice as
many on the ground. Ask Pran."

36 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"Not true/' Gjon answered, setting himself astride
a branch and addressing himself to his sister under-
neath. "Pran, in Nikola's counting a * hundred' fol-
lows * thirty/ so he can go faster, knowing no numbers
between those two."

Nik stopped his work to call, "That is your own
way, Gjon. For me there are not numbers big enough
to count the twigs Tve cut." He grinned at Gjon's hot
red face tauntingly.

Pran stamped her foot. "You two magpies sit
talking and making a big calabrek while the sun
climbs to the top of the sky. Think you our goats
and sheep can eat your words in place of good green
fodder? Get to work."

Both boys went back to cutting, and Pran's great
pile grew high and higher yet. She would call them
to come down soon for midday bread. Gjon was
working silently, good boy that he was, but she could
hear Nik, who was taking things more easily singing
to himself a nonsense song. She had sung it when she
was a little girl. Now Nik's little shrieking voice rang
out on the still hillside:

"Dervish Alusha

Chopped up some cabbage,

He chopped up the cabbage

And his feet turned green.

NUSH 37

He stirred it and mixed it,
And mixed it and stirred it.
It turned into sand
And he ate it and died."

Suddenly a voice took up the song where Nik had
stopped :

"Dervish Alusha
Swallowed down the gravel,
He swallowed down the gravel
And — epat! — he was alive!"

Pran turned toward the trail where the voice came
from, while the two boys, glad of the excuse for rest,
jumped each from his tree and rushed down the hill.

Pran saw a boy standing at the base of the
wooded slope just off the trail, a boy slim and as tall
as she was, taller, a little. He carried no gun. He was
not old enough for that. He wore the tight white
trousers and the colored belt, but even from where
she stood she saw the braiding made a pattern unHke
that on the clothing of her brothers.

"Long life to you!" he called, waving an arm in a
salute to her. The boys had reached him. Pran could
see them taking his hand in greeting, and Gjon,
mindful of his manners, was asking, "How have you
«aiade the trail ? " She called a greeting.

38 PRAN OF ALBANIA

For a few minutes the strange boy stood talking
to the twins while Pran watched curiously. Then she
saw her brothers each take him by a hand and lead
him up the hillside.

As he drew near Pran saw that he had a finely cut
face with pleasant blue-gray eyes and a strong,
friendly mouth. He greeted Pran again and said,
"These two in payment for my song ask me to stay
and eat. What do you say.?"

Pran laughed and said quietly, "If Nik offers to
share his bread and cheese with you then you must
be welcome indeed. Where do you come from?'*

The boy hesitated a moment, then he said, "I
come from far off, but I live now with my uncle,
Prentash Gjoka, in Plani. My name is Nush.''

"I am called Pran, and this is Nikola, and this is
Gjon. Our father is Ndrek, the son of Palok of The-
thi. To-day we have come to get fodder for our flocks
to use this winter." Pran pointed to the great pile of
branches they had gathered.

"Glory to your arms and strength," said Nush.
"You have done well. Have you enough, or may I
help? I am as good a climber as your brothers."

"Thank you," said Pran, "but we have now all I
can carry back. Better for us to eat our midday
bread. Come and sit down with us."

NUSH 39

They all sat down where a full-leaved tree made a
good shade, and Nik and Gjon took out their bread
and cheese and with their knives made a fair division
of the food.

"T'boft mir, Nush!" said Nik, wishing him good
appetite as he handed him his share. "T'boft mir!"
Nush answered, and Gjon and Pran echoed, "T'boft
mir!" Then all began to eat.

Pran asked, "Where have you been, Nush.? Have
you come a long way to-day.'*''

**I am coming back from Skodra Bazaar," Nush
answered. "Last night I slept in a strange house
about five hours from here, and to-day I will reach
my uncle's house at Plani."

The boys' mouths were too full for talking, but
their eyes sparkled at the mention of the bazaar.
They knew the crowds and shops there and the fun of
watching people buy and sell, for now and then Ndrek
had let them take the trail in to Skodra.

"I like the bazaar," said Pran. "There you can see
so many things being made — cradles and copper
dishes, saddles and shoes. Everything in the world is
made in Skodra, I think."

"I took with me two wooden water kegs and sold
them," said Nush. "I have the silver coins they gave
in payment in my belt now." He patted his wound

40 PRAN OF ALBANIA

girdle. *' And I heard talk there. Men say a great deal
in Skodra — true and untrue."

"What did you hear.?" asked Pran.

Nush's face grew serious. '*I heard talk of the
Slavs and the plans they make to march against
Albania."

Pran's mind flashed back to Mark Gjeloshit and
his queries about conditions on the border. She bit
into her cornbread thoughtfully. Nik and Gjon were
finished eating now and played leapfrog together
farther off. She watched them a moment, then
looked back at Nush. "Do men think there is danger
to the border people, then.?" Her voice was lowered
a little anxiously.

"Is your village close to the Slavs' land?" was
Nush's answer.

"Not close to their land," said Pran, "but close to
land of ours that the Slavs hold. Danger to the border
always means danger to us."

"Then tell your father that men talk with earnest-
ness in Skodra and say that the Slavs make ready.'

"He will not be glad of news hke that," said Pran,
and her eyes clouded.

The two finished their meal in silence. When the
last bite was gone Nush looked at her. "Your
thoughts make darkness in your heart, Pran," he

NUSH 41

said. ** Change them for others. I have good news
too."

She looked up at him questioningly.

He laughed. "Let evil days care for their own evil.
To-day the sun shines, and if you and the boys will
come I can lead the way across a rocky stream east
of here and show you where honey is hidden. A bee
tree — smoked out — but there is left through haste or
carelessness a lot of honey near the base, and well
within reach. What do you say.^ Shall we find it and
make a feast?"

Pran's face lightened now. Honey was a rare treat.
And work was done. There would be time to go if it
was not too far. She stood up quickly and smiled
with pleasure. *'That is good news. At our house there
has been nothing sweet to eat for a long time — even
the coffee often has been drunk unsugared. We would
love to go."

She called to Nik and Gjon, whose game had led
them far down the hill. They raced back at the word
"honey," each thumping at his belt to show how
eager he was for feasting.

All four started off, with Nush ahead. Nik ran
circles round them, crying to Nush, "You are the
right sort of guest. You make a fine return for goat's
cheese and bread. Hurrah — rrnoft — for Nush."

42 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"Save thanks for afterward," Nush counseled
him. "I know where the tree is, but someone else
may have been there before us. And besides, you have
a torrent to make your way across. Just wait and
see."

After crossing a little valley and climbing a rocky
hill they took a rough trail leading to the east. Now
they could hear the wild rush of mountain water.

"It thunders," said Gjon.

Pran said, "To my ears that sounds no easy stream
to cross."

As they came out around a spur of the hill they
saw the water. Between two crags of rock it poured
itself down, crashing and rumbling to a deep pool
below, which, in its turn, emptied the stream farther
down the mountainside. In the path of it huge boul-
ders stood, and the white fury of the torrent broke
into splashing spray over and around them.

The boys stopped short. Gjon's face fell. "No
bridge, Nush.?" Nush threw back his head for "no,"
clicking his tongue.

Nik rushed to the very edge. He pointed to three
huge rocks, well separated, that nearly spanned the
stream. "Here are stepping-stones!" he shouted over
the water's thundering.

Pran took a quick step toward him and held his

I

NUSH 43

jacket tight. "Wait, wait, wild man," she cried into
Nik's ear. Leaning, she swiftly unwrapped his belt
from round him and tied one end securely to his
waist and held the other end herself. "So — you must
go on this rope, Nikola, for I cannot risk losing even
a little donkey such as you."

Nik scowled and pulled at the band. Nush said,
" Better turn up your trousers around your ankles,
boys. No one can cross quite dry. That second rock
is under water."

The three boys sat down and turned their trouser
legs up above their shins. A slit bound on the edge
with the black braid made this easy to do.

Pran drew off her moccasins and shputa and her
socks and tied them to her leather belt. "How hard
we work for a taste of honey," she laughed.

Now they were ready. Pran, holding Nik by his
belt, waited for Nush to lead the way across. He
climbed with sure feet, motioning to Gjon to follow
after him. Nush first, then Gjon, balanced and stepped
and jumped. Safely they made the far side.

"Rrnoft!" Gjon shouted, waving a triumphant
hand to Nik. Nik pulled impatiently at his tether,
eager to go. Pran jerked it sharply. "Careful — and
watch. Go slowly. Nush will pull you in on the last
step. Little by little, now."

44 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Gjon screamed across, "The second rock is slip-
pery, Nik." Nik climbed and stood in high excite-
ment on the first stone. Pran held him on a short
leash from the bank.

Without warning now, Nik took a great straddling
step toward the next rock, and Pran, not ready for
the sudden pull on the belt, fell forward, clutching
at the rock to save herself. But the belt slipped from
her hand, and Nik, glad at this sudden slackening of
the rope that held him back, leaped from the second
stone. His foot slid treacherously, and, falling short
of Nush's outstretched hands and the last rock, he
fell, belt and all, head over heels into the rushing
current. Pran saw that for a second he struggled for
a footing and then was swept off his feet and under,
down the stream. From the rock she was standing on
now she could see him whirling helplessly down the
slope against the rocks until the current carried him
into the deep whirlpool below.

"Nush! Nush!'' she cried out desperately. But
Nush needed no word from her. Like a flash he had
run down the stream's edge to the far pool, and now,
as Pran and Gjon watched breathlessly, he hurled
himself clothes and all into the flood.

Nik, who could not swim, was strangling and sink-
ing even as Nush drove through the deep swirling

NUSH 45

waters of the pool. ''Heaven be thanked!'* gasped
Pran. "He swims strongly." But she could see he
needed all the strength he had to make his way to
Nik. She breathed a prayer to good St. Nicholas,
who has in special charge those who risk themselves
in the water. '*0 blessed saint — give Nush the power
— to reach my Nikola."

She saw Nush grab hold of the floating belt and
pull Nik near him. Then he took hold of one arm of
Nik's — how limp it was! — Pran shuddered — and
battling with the swirhng current he fought his way
to the shore, the farther side, where Gjon stood.
Pran saw him lay Nik down. A terror swept her,
for he did not get up. Steadying herself, she made
the hard crossing by the three unlucky rocks and ran
to where Gjon and Nush crouched by Nik.

"He's all right, Pran," Nush told her, reassuring.
*'He's cold, that's all. The water is like ice." His
own teeth chattered.

Pran leaned over Nik. He opened two bloodshot
eyes in a white face and curved his blue lips into a
smile.

"Nik — Nik!" Pran hugged him up to her and felt
him writhe away. Yes — that was Nik — to push at
her Hke that. He was himself. "You wicked little
cucumber, " she scolded, half in tears, and Nik said

46 PRAN OF ALBANIA

fiercely, "Fm all right — Fm not drowned — Fm all
right, I tell you/'

Pran took in a great breath of relief, then thought
of Nush. "A thousand, thousand thanks, Nush.
Without your bravery and your strong arms he'd
never be alive!" She grasped Nush's hand and
pressed it to her forehead, trying to show how thank-
ful she was to him.

Nush answered, smiling ruefully, "No, without
me and my evil idea of honey gathering he would be
safe in the woods instead of cold and half drowned
like this. You should scold me, Pran, not Nik."

They all laughed together now, and Nush and Nik
got to their feet and ran and jumped to warm them-
selves. The dry air was making short work of their
wet clothing.

''And now for honey," said Nik at last.

"Half drowned or not," teased Gjon," Nik will take
care of his insides."

Nush pointed out a blackened hollow tree standing
a bit upstream and back from the rocks. "There is
the tree. Now — who will be first?"

Off" ran the boys. Nik reached the tree first, swung
himself up by a gnarled branch to the opening in the
trunk, and plunged in an eager arm, felt about, and
finally drew out a charred bit of comb dripping with

I

NUSH 47

dark syrup. He climbed down and squatted on the
ground just where he was to eat it. Gjon climbed
and reached and brought up a better piece and sat
down near Nik to revel in the treat. The dark, strong-
tasting honey ran down their fingers, smeared their
faces, but they did not care.

Nush rolled his sleeve up to reach 'way down in.
He pulled himself up to the hole. **ril get some for
us both," he said to Pran. ''It's sticky in there, and
sooty from the smoke."

He drew out a dripping fragment of the comb and
came to her with it, throwing his head back in refusal
when she would have broken it in two. "I owe you
more amends than that," he said, "for letting Nik
run such a risk."

**No," said Pran, *'you saved his life for me." For a
moment she forgot the honey dripping on the ground
and on her skirt and looked into Nush's face earnest-
ly. He pointed to the bit of comb she held. "Why
do you give that to the ants and beetles?" he said,
laughing.

Pran laughed and raised the sweet mass to her
mouth. How rich it tasted! She would eat it slowly
so she could remember for a long time the sweet
strong taste of it.

Nik, moved by a sudden generosity, brought up a

48 PRAN OF ALBANIA

piece to Nush. "Here, Nush — and good appetite,"
he said, smiling his broadest.

"You owe him more than that," said Gjon, look-
ing up from his piece of comb.

"You owe him your Hfe, most hkely," said Pran.
"And I should scold you for jumping so carelessly —
I should scold you well — but" — she laughed as Nik
hastily handed her the rest of the piece of comb he
was nibbling at — "you make diplomatic presents,
and besides, having you here safe, my heart cannot
harden itself enough for scolding."

The honey tree was very empty now, and Nush
and Pran and the two boys sat licking their fingers
regretfully.

Pran squinted at the sun. "Time to go back," she
said.

"We'll take no chances this time," said Nush.
"I will play horse for the boys and carry them
across, one at a time."

"Can you keep your footing, Nush.?" Pran looked
at him anxiously. And then she added, "You will
get wet again." But in her heart she felt a great
relief, for she could not have borne to see either
of the twins take those dangerous leaps all over
again.

NUSH 49

"I am wet now,'' said Nush. "Here Gjon — you
first."

Gjon sat astride Nush's shoulders, holding fast to
his head. Nush waded in — knee high — waist high.
"Hold fast!" They were across.

Next Nik's turn. He crouched low over Nush's
head. "Don't blind him," called Pran and shut her
own eyes in fear — opened them. All were safe. Then
she made the crossing on the stones — more easily,
this time.

"It's late," she said when they had started on the
trail back. "We'd better run."

They all ran until they reached the place where she
had piled the branches. Pran knelt down, and taking
her braided rope she passed it under and over
the leafy mass, pulling and drawing it and wind-
ing it on itself until she had all safely and
tightly tied in a huge bundle. Two loops were left to
pass her arms through.

Nush Hfted it and set it on her back, and Pran
fastened it firmly. Nush helped her, tucking and
twisting here and there until Pran was satisfied the
load would ride.

"Mother will think a tree is walking home," said
Gjon, for Pran was nearly buried under the leaves.

50 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Nush said, "Luck be with you all/' and turned to
leave them. "Long life,** the boys called out. "Good
go with you," said Pran, and Nush answered, "Go
on a smooth trail, all three of you!*'

"Smooth peace — smooth peace!" they called, and
Gjon and Nik waved a hand to him, then trotted
after Pran who walked, steady and only slightly
bent, under her great bobbing burden.

f

il

I

CHAPTER IV

FEAST DAY

THE great Feast Day had arrived. Pran stood
at the door, watching the mountain people
passing on the trail. Old men and women, young men
and their wives with the babies' cradles strapped
high on their shoulders, children, boys and girls, all
ages, running here and there or tramping sturdily
behind the grown-ups. All took their way on the
trail below her house up to the fenced-in churchyard
where stood the Friar's house higher than other
houses, and the church itself with its little belfry
and its wooden cross on the gable peak. She watched
them go.

She could see them gathering in groups in the
wide green yard that lay to one side of where the
graves were with their tall hand-carved wooden
crosses. The women gathered in knots; the men
formed larger groups; and here and there amid the
general talk Pran saw one man address the others
earnestly, explaining or exhorting. Heads shook in
agreement or were thrown back with the words,

51

52 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"Yo, per Zot!" She knew the words — ''No, by
Heaven!" — though now she stood too far off to
hear them.

Some of the men left talking as she watched, un-
slung their rifles, and stood them close to the church
door against the wall. Each straightened himself to
his fine height and disappeared through the door into
the church. Women followed; children were herded
in. And still they came in twos and threes and fours
along the trail below the house. For this was Feast
Day in Thethi — Feast of St. John the Divine —
and the Friar said mass for everyone to hear, and
there would be a suitable feast of pork and mutton
after at Marash Gjoni's house — Marash Gjoni, the
richest man in Thethi village — rich in flocks and
herds and lands — and generous, as to-day would
prove to more than one hungry villager.

"Pran! What are you doing, girl?" Lukja's voice
called Pran back from her gazing and her imagination
of the feast. **Time flies, child, and the Friar's man
will ring the bell before ever you have changed
into your new clothes. Hurry and come."

Pran turned and went in and up the stone steps
to the upper room. Ndrek crouched by the fire, shav-
ing himself, and Lukja held Nik by one red ear while
she scrubbed at his already shining face with a cloth

ii

FEAST DAY 53

wet in the wooden bowl on the rough shelf beside
her.

Gjon stood winding in careful folds about him a
gorgeous new belt of brilliant coloring, laying each
strip fairly against the next and tracing delighted
fingers over its clean smoothness. All made ready for
the day's festival.

Pran changed to her new-made stiff white jacket
and arranged over her clipped hair, that lay in
fringes at each cheek and on her forehead, a fresh
cloth bordered in bright orange. She went outside and
washed face and hands in the little stream at the
yard's edge. She looked admiringly at her new blood-
ied shputa, decorated just as Gjyl's had been in gold
and silver thread, and glittering now above her raw-
hide sandals beneath her longish skirt.

She sat down on the doorstep waiting for the rest
and looked at the trail. Few passed along it now.
She looked up toward the churcnyard. No one stood
outside. As people entered now they passed into the
church at once. Old Zef, the Friar's man, made his
way across the grass from the Friar's house to the
church. He went to ring the church bell. "Nona,"
called Pran, "it's time."

"Slowly, slowly," answered Lukja's quiet voice,
*' little by little," and Pran heard feet coming down

54 PRAN OF ALBANIA

the Stone stairs. Ndrek first, then the boys, and last
her mother, came through the big door, shining in
their readiness.

Ndrek took the lead, the boys behind him hand in
hand. Pran walked with Lukja. One or two others
of the Thethi households wandered from different
directions toward the church. The bell tolled clam-
orously above them. Pran could see it swaying to
and fro in its little shelter on the church roof. They
entered at the gate and crossed the green yard to the
church door. Ndrek unslung his rifle as the rest had
done and leaned it with scores of others against the
church wall. Pran knew on holidays like this enemies
made a truce and under this word or bessa could
kneel down beside each other in the house of God,
bearing no grudge and not obliged to settle any score
until the feast was done, the bessa ended. Such a
scheme seemed good and most reasonable to Pran.

Inside the church was dark. Only the flickering
altar candles burned. The air was close, so crowded
was the room, and through the narrow windows little
breeze could come. The men sat herded all on one
side; across were the women and the children.

Pran and her mother found a place to sit cross-
legged on the floor, like all the rest. The boys followed
Ndrek close. Pran whispered, "To-day the twins

FEAST DAY 55

decide that they are men." "Well, let them," mur-
mured Lukja. The two boys squatted by their father
happily, keeping a still, childish dignity. Even Nik
was hushed by the solemn feeling in the place.

Pran saw between the heads before her the altar
with its crucifix and candles. Above it hung a rudely
painted picture of the Virgin holding her Baby. Pran
loved this picture, loved the Virgin's painted face
with its dark, peaceful eyes. "She welcomes us," she
thought, and kneeling as her mother did she prayed
a prayer the Friar had taught her long ago; then sat
again and waited.

The bell had stopped ringing, and no more came in.
Pran knew somewhere behind there Friar Gjiergj
changed his brown monk's frock for gorgeous gold
and crimson. Now — he came. All stood. The mass
began. Pran knew the answers to the Friar's words.
The language was her own; she understood. She loved
to watch him move about, handling the sacred things,
dressed in his gay embroidered vestments, so much
more colorful than mountain black and white. His
servant knelt near him, holding a big brass bell,
ready to ring it when the time should come. An old
man with a long stick stood to one side, and woe
betide the child who made noise or disorder, or any
worshiper who dared to drowse. The old man's

S6 PRAN OF ALBANIA

eagle eye was ready to detect such disrespect, and his
long stick would pounce on such a culprit merci-
lessly.

The chanting stopped, and people knelt again.
A hush fell, and Pran's eyes fixed themselves a bit
fearfully on her own lap. She dared not look, but
knew the Friar raised the holy bread, the blessed
sacrament, that all might worship it. The bell clanged
jinglingly, and Pran, her heart missing a beat, made
the cross with her right hand and felt for a brief
moment that the God of the mountains and of all
faithful Maltsors leaned for a second's time from that
high throne of His accepting what men gave.

Now mass was done. The people all filed out; more
quickly than they had come in, for was there not a
feast preparing farther up the hill? The men took
up their rifles, and the crowd stood, some talking
quietly and some silent.

Pran waited, holding fast to Nik and Gjon.

Then all began to move toward the house of
Marash Gjoni, higher up the hill's slope.

Pran kept close to Ndrek and Lukja, leading the
boys. Lukja, who knew well the wife of Marash Gjoni
— Angja, she was called — had told Pran that she
was to help serve the food. Pran was glad to be of
such importance on this day, and as she walked after

FEAST DAY 57

her mother she was thinking of the food that they
would have. There would be hot cornmeal in huge
wooden bowls, and butter for it, and then plenty of
mutton roasted on the spits outside and the boiled
meat of young goats, perhaps. And then heaps of
fried fat pork, and hens fresh-killed that very morn-
ing. What a great man was Marash — both generous
and good to give his grain and animals like this in
honor of St. John, and for the pleasure of so many.

They reached the house. Outside, the mountain
people sat and squatted all about, while some gath-
ered about the spitted animals and piled the fires high.
Inside upstairs there was a gathering that cramped
the great room, huge as it was. The women did the
cooking down below. Here Pran stayed, watching for
a chance to take her part in the great preparations
going on all around her.

Fires burned in two great stone hearths set against
opposite walls and fitted with rude flues to take the
smoke. Great iron pots were hung above the flames.
Besides these, smaller fires burned here and there
on the earth floor, or charcoal braziers stood on slim
metal legs holding red glowing coals, and set on these
was a pot or pan of copper or of brass. The room was
smoky, and the smell of boiling meat filled the air.

"Here, Pran." and Lukja handed her a deep pan

I

58 PRAN OF ALBANIA

filled with pale yellow butter, soft, but not yet
melted for the sauce.

Pran moved to where one of the fires showed there
was room to set a pot and raked with a stick a level
place in the hot embers. Then she set on her saucepan
and, leaving it, asked Marash's wife for a smooth
paddle to stir it that it might not burn. She could
smell, as she went back to stir, the muttony steam
that rose from the great pots and the tasty odor of
the frying pork. In the dim room lit here and there
with fires she saw the women stirring and mixing
with the great wooden paddles or kneading huge
masses of yellow dough in the wooden troughs. Some
baked the bread in the large shallow pans. Much
had been done already, for Pran saw piled high
against the wall the round wheels of yellow loaves —
^*buk kalamuchit."

She stirred the butter down.

Now women brought great bowls of cooked corn-
meal over to her, and Pran, with a smaller bowl,
dipped out the butter, pouring it in a bubbly stream
over each bowlful. Then the bowls were carried up
the stairs for the house guests, and some were taken
outside where people gathered in groups and used
bits of bread or wooden spoons to dip the stuff up
from the common dish.

FEAST DAY 59

Some women had started breaking up the bread into
great yellow chunks. Pran, now her pan was empty,
joined them to help. The meat was portioned after
the bread was given, the boiled meat in wooden
bowls, the roasted meat carved up in crisp smoking
pieces. Now the feasting was well under way.

Pran thought, "Til find the daughters of the house
and eat with them." Carrying a small bowl of meat
and bread she went upstairs. In a dark corner, seated
on the floor, she found two girls of her own age
dressed just as she was herself, in white felt clothes
with head scarves and the rawhide moccasins. They
smiled and greeted her, and Pran took the hand of
each in turn and leaned to touch her cheek to each
cheek off"ered her. '*Long life, Lezina; long life, Filia,"
she said and thanked them for the space they made
for her to sit beside them. ''Good appetite!" each
wished the other two, and all began to eat, chattering
together softly of the feast and guests and border
gossip.

"The men talk war," said Filia, nibbling ofF bits
of mutton from the bone she held.

"They always do," said Lezina, smiling a little as
she broke her bread.

Pran said, "I have heard much lately of the South
Slavs and what they plan against the Maltsor on our

6o PRAN OF ALBANIA

border lands. A man came not long since to visit us
and asked my father things no one need know — of
food and fighting men and things like that, and where
our own hearts were if war should come."

The girls leaned nearer, and the two pairs of eyes
looked earnestly into Pran*s face. "What will it
mean?" asked Filia with a touch of dread in her
voice.

"More sorrow for the mountains," answered Pran.
But Lezina broke in impatiently, throwing back her
fine, proudly set head. "There is too much of such
talk. Why cannot they choose more pleasant things
to mingle with the smoke of cigarettes?"

Pran sighed and licked from her finger tips the
mutton grease, and then said softly, "Perhaps it is
only talk, but, after all, where the tooth aches the
tongue will go. We suffer, since so much of our own
land lies under Slavic rule."

Lezina turned the talk to other things, but Pran
could not shake off the heavy feehng that the words
had left deep in her heart. The feast was shadowed
for her, and, as she and the other two gathered up
bowls and scraps from those who had done eating and
carried them below, she felt anxious to have the feast-
ing over with and to hear the singing that always
followed.

FEAST DAY 6l

When the first voice was raised in an old tune she
went upstairs to listen. Lezina and Filia sat beside
her, far from the central hearth where the men sat
and sang. The shrill shrieking of their voices in the
monotonous tunes satisfied Pran and quieted in her
the unrest she had been feeling. It was good to smell
tobacco smoke and let the wailing music ring through
the room and through herself, and listen to the brave
words that told ever and always of the mountains'
strength and the stout undaunted hearts of mountain
people. Comfort was in that.

After a while the crowded room grew very warm —
too warm. A pause in the singing made Pran notice
this, and she said to the girls near her, "I'm going
outside, down to the spring a moment, and wash
myself cool."

She left the house and took her way down the slope
below the door. Following a well-trodden trail, she
reached the high rocks where water splashed down in
a swift little stream. Leaning, she put her hot face
in the water as it fell and held her hands and wrists
under its splashing.

She sat down on the edge of the little pool and
thought, "It is cool and fresh here. I'll stay awhile.
Up there there are so many people one cannot think."
She sat half dreaming, watching the bubbles form

62 PRAN OF ALBANIA

and break, the water passing near her chuckhng
softly as water chuckles flowing over rock.

Suddenly a crackling in the bushes up above
startled her. She looked up to the rock's top and saw
a white cap through the brush, and then bare feet,
and then the figure of a boy. Where had she seen that
face.f* Who.'' — Why — Nush! — that was who it was.
She opened her mouth to say his name, but as she did
so he raised a finger to his lips for silence. "Sh!" he
said softly. "Don't say my name, Pran." He knelt
above her, looking down, half smiling, half serious.
Pran's puzzled glance met his.

He spoke again in a low tone, ** Greetings to you,
Pran, Daughter-of-Ndrek. Long life."

"Long life," said Pran, speaking unconsciously in
the same soft voice. "Why are you not at the feast
to-day ? Have you just come ? "

Nush knelt there silent a moment looking out of
steady eyes, hesitating, as if unsure how to reply.

Pran wondered. Then he spoke, "Listen, Pran. I
cannot come to any feast. It is forbidden me. Never
mind why. Wonder — if you like." He still spoke
secretly.

"Are you in trouble, Nush — in blood, perhaps —
that you dare not go.?" Her eyes were wide, but she
was well aware that sometimes, if a man's family was

FEAST DAY 63

in feud, a son — even a son as young as Nush, if
he was oldest of the Hne, could pay that debt — forfeit
his own life; but to-day — St. John's Day?

"Why, Nush," she said, "no one to-day need fear
feud or blood payment. There is a bessa among all
the near-by tribes. You would be safe."

"Safe for to-day," Nush said impetuously, "but
after, not so safe, having given sight of myself and
news of where I dwell to everyone — foe as well as
friend. There is more to this than I can tell you. The
sure fact is that no one must carry word of where I
am, nor what my face is like, nor where I live. I do
not go to feasts — not now."

Pran puzzled. Her eyes were filled with anxiety —
bewilderment.

"I do not understand," she said at last, "but
every sheep hangs by its own leg. Tell me, then,
why do you come here at all — risking a recognition?"

"I came for one thing only." Nush spoke more
firmly now. "Climb up to me, and in the bushes here
we can talk without fear of being seen."

Pran, thoroughly mystified and not quite at ease,
did as he asked. She cHmbed up the rock's face to
where he was, and they went off a bit into the bushes,
well out of sight of the spring path.

Nush looked about him cautiously. "Here we are

64 PRAN OF ALBANIA

safe," he said. "If someone should come down to the
spring the sound of the water falling covers our
voices, and the bushes are too thick for us to be
seen."

Pran felt strangely expectant now. She knelt be-
fore him, sitting on her heels and waiting.

Nush fumbled at his belt. Then he drew out of it a
tiny bit of cloth wrapped about something — some-
thing very small it seemed to Pran. As he unwrapped
it she leaned curiously to see what it could be. Nush
opened the bit of cloth with careful fingers. He
spread it out. On it there lay a gold piece — thin
Turkish gold traced with strange signs in Arab writ-
ing. At the rim on one side someone had nicked out a
pointed piece, so that the coin was marked.

*'See this.^" said Nush. He handed the gold piece
to her. Pran took it gingerly. What strange charm
was this.^ An evil spell, perhaps — such as the Mussul-
man children wore, made of blue magic beads. The
priests she knew had warned them all of charms other
than those that bore the Virgin's image.

Nush said, "Don't be afraid. Fm Christian, like
yourself. I wear no fez. This coin is not a charm. It
bears a message, rather. It has meaning, Pran — and
meaning for one person only. By a strange piece of
luck you came here where I waited secretly, hoping

FEAST DAY 6$

for a chance to get this gold piece to — the one who
knows the message that it brings."

Pran stared into his serious eyes, fingering the coin
and eager to hear more.

"I trust you, Pran," he said, and looked away,
speaking more slowly. "It is hard to find someone
who can be trusted." Then he looked at her search-
ingly and said, "Is your heart with mine in what I
shall ask now?"

Pran drew a deep breath, then said, as serious now
as he, "By Nik's life you saved, by the Virgin's
image in the church down there, and by my pledged
word — my bessa — you can trust me surely, forever."
She paused. "What is it, Nush? What can I do fci
you.? Tell me, and it is done."

Nush, who had been tense till now, relaxed as with
relief and sat a moment silently, breathing more
slowly. Then he said, "Who has come to the feast,
Pran?"

"All Thethi," answered Pran, "and the households
from three bairaks — and "

"From Merturi tribe has any household come?"
He interruped her, an eagerness in his voice.

Pran thought. "Yes, Nush," she answered, "Mer-
turi is not so far but that many have walked the trail
from there to-day — Rai has sent many families."

66 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"You know them, Pran?"

**I know few of them, Nush. Only my mother's
tribal sister Gjyl, wife of a man of Merturi, I have
seen her. She came with her own husband's brother,
for her man is dead — killed in the feud. I know. She
stayed a night with us not long ago, she and her
man's father and his brothers. Then it was I heard
her husband had given blood payment but a short
while back."

As Pran was speaking Nush's face had clouded
darkly, and his eyes, that had been soft and
friendly, hardened themselves to the color of gray
steel. "I have heard, too,'' he said, and then was
still.

"Marash's daughters talked with me about that
trouble as we sat at bread. Lezina said one of the
dead man's brothers had taken life to clear the honor
of his house. You knew of that.?"

Nush's face did not change, but for a moment he
seemed to sink deep into thinking. Then he came
back to Pran and answered her, "I did not know.
But such a thing had to be done. Blood calls for
blood. Though to be sure the debt is never paid."
Nush lost himself again in his own thoughts. His
eyes were fixed, not on Pran now, but on something
far ofF, it seemed.

FEAST DAY 67

**Why do you ask for Gjyl?" Pran said at last.

His eyes came back to hers. "Gjyl is the one-
Gjyl knows the meaning and the message of that
coin. The gold piece must find its way into her hands.
That is the trust I give you, Pran. Take it — " he
touched the coin — "take it to her.''

"And what words go with it?" Pran asked.

"No words," said Nush, "only — give it to her.
She will find words herself seeing this nicked edge."
He stood. "Let no one else see or know, and say no
word at all of seeing me here to-day. Now, go —
quickly, for I can hear feet on the spring path.
Remember, Pran, no word of me — do you hear?"
His voice in its sudden fierce earnestness dismayed
her. She caught at his arm as he was turning to go.

*'Nush — Nush — " her heart beat fast — "what —
what is wrong?"

His face broke into a smile then. "Nothing is
wrong, Pran. Nothing will be wrong if I can trust
you. Can I?"

Pran heard the footsteps on the path below. She
whispered, "Yes, Nush, by Heaven, you can. Good-
bye. Go on a smooth trail."

And Nush answered as softly, " Peace be with you,
Pran. Long life. A thousand thanks." He crouched
to make his way through the thick undergrowth.

68 PRAN OF ALBANIA

A second and he had vanished. Even his feet sent
back no sound to Pran's ears.

She went back to the spring rock and clambered
down its face. Below stood Filia and Lezina.

They laughed. **We guessed you would be here,"
said Filia. Lezina said, **She is a mountain goat and
climbs for the pure pleasure of it. Be careful, Pran.
Some morning you will wake to feel two pricking
horns and find your hands shaggy with brown hair.'*

Pran shook a laughing head. "I should not mind.
The goats are free to roam and sure of rest — and
more than that — no feud or war bothers their hard
brown heads."

The two girls chattered back, but Pran did not
attend to what they said. Tight in her hand she
clutched the golden coin, and her head buzzed with
what she had to do and with the anxious thought,
''Where was Gjyl now? Had she started back home,
perhaps?" Her feet went faster on the sloping path.

*'Pran, you will leave us far behind," said Filia.
"Why must you hurry so?"

Pran hid her concern behind a smile. "I must say
some farewells before the guests are gone," she said,
and her feet broke into a run.

As she entered the big house she met Ndrek and

FEAST DAY 69

Lukja on their way out. **Get the two boys, Pran,**
Lukja said. **It is time we went home."

"I will find them, Nona," Pran said and went up
the stairs to the big upper room. But she was not
thinking of Nik and Gjon, for her thoughts were full
of the question, ^*Gjyl — where is Gjyl?" The coin
burned her hand. Suppose she should not find Gjyl
and so should fail in this trust that Nush had given
her.? Her heart beat faster as she entered the dim
room.

In the half darkness few people were to be seen.
Pran's eyes searched the corners. A woman saw her
and said, "You seek your brothers, Pran. They are
outside."

'*No," thought Pran, *'Gjyl is nowhere here."
Should she risk asking.? If she did not ask, failure was
certain. She would have the coin and no way to get it
back to Nush again. After a time he'd know that she
had failed — had not been worth the trust he'd put in
her. She swallowed hard; turned to Angja, the host's
wife, and asked in as calm a voice as she could
muster, "Have all the Merturi people left for home,
Angja?"

"Long since," answered the woman. "They had
far to go."

70 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran's heart stood still. She felt tears of frustration
gather in her eyes. Now she had failed! Catching her
breath she said a quick farewell and ran down the
dark stairs and out the door. The trail was filled with
people going home. If only Gjyl had gone late she
might catch her yet!

Pran ran on down the trail, forgetting Nik and
Gjon, passing on the run one group after another —
people of Shala bairaks — no one from Merturi. She
must, must find Gjyl somehow, even if she ran till
dark. Panting, she turned off on the Merturi trail.
She could hear voices from the groups she passed ex-
claiming in surprise, "There goes Ndrek's girl.
What is after her that she goes so fast and in the
wrong direction ? ''

But the trail she took now was nearly empty.
Only one group was in sight — three men — a woman
with them. Gjyl? Pran's feet flew. "Yes, it is Gjyl, it
is!'' She raised her voice, breathless as she ran,
"Gjyl! Gjyl!" she called.

The woman stopped and turned, waited; while
the men, glancing a moment back, continued on the
path.

"What is it, daughter? What do you want of me?
Does Lukja send?'*

Pran met her and took her hand, pressing it to her

FEAST DAY 7I

forehead and her heart. "Long Hfe, Gjyl. Stay a
minute. I have — something to give you.''

Now the time had come Pran felt almost afraid.
The coin she clutched so tightly seemed suddenly
something of evil omen. She hesitated. Gjyl stood
before her, question in her eyes.

Then Pran shook off her fear. She sank her voice to
a whisper, though they two were quite alone now.
"Someone has sent you — this," she said, and held
out her hand, palm up. The gold piece stared from
the palm like a glistening eye.

Gjyl leaned — and saw. Pran started at the sudden
soft cry she gave. Her hand closed over the coin, and
Pran could see her face, pale in the dying light, then
red again. She heard Gjyl catch her breath as though
a sob had risen in her throat. And she saw Gjyl
press the hand that held the coin against her breast,
and in Gjyl's eyes that met hers questioningly she
thought she saw tears starting. Pran's eyes dropped.
She murmured, "It is for you." And then, "Good-
bye, Gjyl. Go on a smooth trail." Her trust had been
fulfilled. Now she must go.

Then Gjyl spoke, and her voice was quiet. When
Pran looked up her face was quiet too; only her eyes
looked burningly into Pran's own. "Blessings upon
you, daughter. You have brought peace, and may

72 PRAN OF ALBANIA

smooth peace go with you." A moment her hand
caressed Pran's kerchiefed head and then she turned
and took the trail toward Merturi, saying no more.

Pran walked slowly back. Now and then she gave
a mountain greeting to those that passed, but her
mind did not know the words her tongue was saying,
for her thoughts were whirling in her head. "What
did it all mean ? Why did Gjyl act so ? And why this

secrecy? And why " And then like a wave she

felt come over her a sense of satisfaction, happiness.
She had not failed. No, she had fulfilled the trust
she had been given. Nush would know that she was a
true friend to him whose bravery and strength had
saved Nik from his death. She smiled to herself.

She found the twins climbing the hill to home
ahead of her. They all went in together.

CHAPTER V

PRAN' S ERRAND

NDREK was busy with the planting. All day he
worked with the wooden plow on the stony
lands his father had left him. The twins helped. They
crouched over the furrows he had made, raking them
with forked sticks they had cut and setting in the
crumbled earth golden kernels of '*kalamuchit" —
the mountain corn. Each carried a cloth filled with
the corn, and, creeping along, each set in and covered
firmly the fat grains, pressing the earth down with
their bare feet afterward.

Lukja worked hard at her spinning and her weav-
ing on the narrow loom. Easter was on the way, and
there must be for each member of the family a fresh
new outer suit of clothing. Yards and yards of the
broad braid must be woven on the curved wicker
frame with its hanging bobbins of black woolen
thread; and a thousand stitches had to be set in the
heavy, stiff, felt-like cloth for trousers and skirts
and jackets.

74 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran helped her, sitting long hours by the hearth
or out in the sunny yard, the wicker frame tilted up
before her, and her swift fingers throwing the little
spools to left and right. She could see the braid grow
longer and longer. She wound up the length she
wove and went on weaving.

Two weeks had passed since St. John's Feast,
and one sunny morning Pran sat outside weaving
and thinking of the queer errand she had done for
Nush. She was roused by the sharp barking of the
dog, and she rose to look down the trail. A woman,
carrying on her back the usual cradle and knitting
as she walked, was coming up to the house.

Pran recognized her. It was Drania, her uncle's
wife, who lived not far off. The two greeted each
other, and Pran asked after the health of all her
family. She noticed, as Drania answered, that the
child tied to the cradle on her back was making a low
moaning sound. *'He is not well," said Drania.
**That is why I have come. I must get him to the
doctor somehow. Where is Lukja.^"

Pran led the way inside where Lukja sat weaving.
She felt sorry at the news that little Kol was ill.
She had seen him often since his birth less than a
year ago. She liked the round-faced brown-eyed
little thing with his sparse sandy hair. She waited

pran's errand 75

near the two women to hear what the trouble was and
to see Httle Kol if possible.

Drania, after greeting Lukja, untied the cradle
from her shoulders and set it on the floor. Under a
dozen close coverings, hiding him head and all, the
baby was quite buried. Drania took off one layer
after another, and there, lying fast bound from neck
to toes, lay little Kol. He was not well. Pran could
see that. His little face had lost its roundness, and his
brown eyes looked unhappily up at her as he rolled
his head restlessly this way and that.

Smoothing his pale cheek gently she talked in a
soft voice to him, but he did not notice her in his
usual way. She heard Drania say, "He must go down
to Skodra — to the doctor there. My man Gjelosh
says there is no help for him here at home. We have
tried everything, and now he takes no more food —
refuses when I offer it." Her voice was sharp with
distress.

Lukja said, "Someone must take him to Skodra.
That is sure. Gjelosh, like Ndrek, is too busy with the
planting, and you, Drania, it is a bad season for you
to make the trip pressed with the Easter work as I
am myself; and you have more children to clothe
than we have here."

"Could Pran be spared.?" asked Drania. "She is

76 PRAN OF ALBANIA

grown now and strong enough to carry Kol without
getting too tired. It is a long way from here — four
days there and back at least. What about sending
her.? I know she'd take as good care of Kol as though
he were her brother."

Pran, kneeling by the cradle, turned her head.
How she would love to go, all by herself; make the
long journey, see the Skodra Bazaar. And she
wanted to help Drania. She knew how busy she was
at home with four other children hanging to her
skirts. She would take Kol gladly, get him to the doc-
tor, make him well. And then there came suddenly
into her mind another big reason for her going to
Skodra. Nush might be there. So many people came
to the bazaar — hundreds. The mountaineers and low-
land villagers, people from everywhere. Nush could
so easily be one of them. And if she found him she
could tell him how she had fulfilled her trust. If only
Lukja would say yes.

Pran went over to the two women standing near
the loom. "Nona," she said, "Fm big enough to go. I
know the way to Skodra. I could make the trip
easily and stay the night at Ndue Marashit's house
in Gjoanni. I have been there before. And if I make
a very early start I could reach Skodra on the day
after and see the doctor before evening."

PRAN S ERRAND 77

"And then?" said Lukja, faced with the difficulties
of the long way, yet wavering, anxious to help her
sister in her trouble.

Pran thought. Where could she spend the night in
Skodra? To see the doctor, to go to the bazaar would
use up all the daylight. Thethi was so far from
Skodra. Rightly business like this should be done
to eastward — in Djakova; but that way lay under
Slavic interdict now and had so lain for years. All
the villages about were cut off from their rightful
easy markets. Djakova, filled with Albanians, was
Slavic now. No one dared go. So Skodra it must be.

Now Drania spoke: "I planned it, sister, for I
knew, if you would let Pran go, that she must have
night's lodging. Friar Gjiergj knows Skodra well,
and has a sister, novice in the convent there. Pran
could go to her. She would be able to furnish Pran a
safe corner for herself and Kola. Then she could start
early next day and make the long way back as she
had gone, stopping at Ndue's house again."

** Think you the Friar would consent to this?"
asked Lukja.

"Without a doubt. He is good and generous — white
faced as are few men. He never fails to help any of us
in need. Let Ndrek go and ask a paper from him,"
Drania said.

78 PRAN OF ALBANIA

So it was arranged. Ndrek left work and got the
letter from the Friar, and Drania and Kola stayed
overnight. Pran was delighted at the task ahead. To
help little Kola whom she was so fond of — to make
such an important journey all alone — that pleased
her. Then behind these thoughts there was the
chance of running across Nusn in the bazaar and
telling him about the coin and Gjyl and maybe
finding out from him more of his mystery.

She slept soundly that night, leaving herself fully
dressed that she might start without delay as soon as
dawn should come.

Next day in the half light she ate her bread and
drank a tiny hot cup of coffee Lukja gave. Then
with her mother's help she tied on her back the
cradle, the baby bound safe inside it, covered as
before. She was off. "Go on a smooth trail," they
called after her, and Pran, who had taken her spin-
ning for the trail, waved her wooden distaff at the
two women as they stood outside the great door
watching her. Tucked safely in her belt she had the
Friar's letter that would provide her with a place to
sleep, and near it two precious silver coins wrapped
in a bit of cloth for buying sugar and two tin pails in
the bazaar.

Kol had seemed more happy that morning, and as

PRAN S ERRAND 79

Pran bore him over the rough trails she was glad to
hear no sound of discomfort from him. He would
sleep, perhaps. Inside his cradle was a wrapped piece
of cornbread and a bit of white goat's cheese for her
own noonday meal, and with it in a little cup Drania
had put a small lump of butter for Pran to give to
Kol if he should cry.

The sun rose now over the eastern mountains. It
would be warm at midday.

At first the strain and weight of the cradle bothered
her, but soon her back, accustomed to heavy loads,
grew used to it, and she began to spin. Holding her
distafF under her left arm she pulled at the white
fluffy wool bound to it, and, twisting as she pulled,
she spun the thread out, keeping her slim wooden
spindle twirling as it hung from her right hand.

She felt like Lukja — carrying a baby, spinning
white wool. Most of the women walked encumbered
so. Men carried rifles; women, distaffs. Life was
arranged like that: to each what fitted him. Pran
knew the ancient law for marching tribes: "Men to
march a rifle's length apart; women to go the distance
of their distaffs from each other." She hardly watched
her spinning. Her fingers had eyes for this. She watched
the trail, setting her feet steadily, not to jar Kol too
much. "If only my dress was black, not white," she

80 PRAN OF ALBANIA

thought, ''people would think me married and Kol my
son." To-day she would pretend he was. She looked out
over the valley she traversed, up to the circled hills.
A breeze blew, and the dead blue of the sky bent Hke
a bowl above her. She would sing for her baby. She
remembered a little song her mother had sung to her
when she was tiny. She sang it now in the low
deep tones used by the women singing.

"Oh, oh, ni-na, ni-na,
On your eyes let slumber fall,
Rocking in your wooden cradle;
Father is the chief of all."

She passed only two or three travelers like herself.
They gave her the mountain greeting, "Long life to
you!" and Pran answered with the same words. She
rested always at each wayside cross, for these were
set at the summit of steep hills where breath was
short from climbing; or sometimes their bare wooden
arms would stretch over a grassy place where, just
beyond, a hard steep slope gave reason for the rest.
At each she crossed herself and made a prayer for
Kola's cure to his own saint, St. Nicholas, and to the
Virgin too, for she must love and care for every baby,
being mother herself to One.

At noon Pran untied the cradle and folded back the

PRAN S ERRAND 8 1

coverings a bit. Kol was awake and Pran, smearing a
little butter on her finger, gave it to him to suck.
He was not hungry, but she coaxed him, crooning
as she had heard the mothers croon, and putting each
time a little more on her finger tip. Then she rocked
the long cradle gently till he drowsed. Squatting be-
side him she made her own meal, and after drank
water from a tiny stream whose sound she had
heard before stopping.

In the afternoon she went downhill more often than
she climbed, and before sunset saw lying in the valley
the village where was Ndue Marashit's house. On the
way to it she passed many of the rough stone dwell-
ings with their coarsely thatched roofs, and she knew
that behind each door was welcome for her. Villagers
passing her asked always that she turn into their
houses and pass the night with them, some even
insisting so earnestly that Pran had hard work to
keep on her way to Ndue's.

At length she saw the house in front of her. The
wolf dog strained madly at his chain as she went up
to the door. Knocking, she waited; then she heard the
heavy bolt sHp back, and Ndue himself stood there
to welcome her. It was a tiny house, just one small
room, but from the fire Ndue's wife and his two little
girls rose joyfully to greet her, and Pran knew to-

82 PRAN OF ALBANIA

night there would be feasting in her honor, plenty for
all, and a warm blanket near the hearth that she
might sleep in comfort. Ndue's wife untied the cradle
from her back and cared for Kol herself, while Pran
sank down beside the fire and gave the family what
news she had from Thethi and the farther villages.
Soon the grateful smell of boiling meat was in her
nostrils, and she forgot the long way she had come
and sat in comfort, while outside thick darkness
fell and the cold mountain air swept down on each
shut house.

Early morning found her on the trail again, her
bread and cheese replenished by Ndue's wife and
herself rested and refreshed. She hurried, for the
goal was nearer now, and a slight moaning sound
from Baby Kol made her anxious to be in Skodra.

This day she passed many groups of mountain
people, all going in to Skodra, for to-day was Bazaar
Day there, and mountain goods and products were
carried down to sell or barter. On the high chafa she
met with one family, a man and wife and little son,
who went in haste as she did. So she walked with
them and found in songs and talk pleasure and relief
from the worry she was feeling over Kol. They all ate
bread and cheese together by a wooden cross when it
was noon.

pran's errand 83

After lunch Pran watched the sun to mark how
fast time went. It was still well up in the western sky
when they all saw the minarets and steeples of the
town. The level way led over Skodra Plain.

Her companions went straight on to the bazaar,
but Pran turned off on a cobbled way that led to
Rruga Spitalit — Hospital Street. The doctor would
be in the great upper room seeing the babies. She
knew the great carved door in the high stone wall
that led into the hospital yard. There it was now.

A crowd of women, carrying babies at their backs,
or holding children by the hand, were gathered near
the door inside the court. Pran, anxious, though Kol
slept now, must wait her turn. She hoped that she
would not have to wait long, with Kol so sick, and
errands to do after in the bazaar.

The doctor was learned. She had seen him once.
He knew a hundred times more than any mountaineer
about sick babies. He wore a red fez always, night
and day, people said. He was Mussulman. That made
no difference. He could cure Christians and Moham-
medans alike. **White faced," he was. If only to-day
he could cure Baby Kol, or give a medicine and let
her take to Drania a message of how to care for Kol
at home. If only

Her turn had come. She climbed the stairs to the

84 PRAN OF ALBANIA

big room. How bright it was with such great glassed
windows all around. It dazzled her. Kol was un-
wrapped down to his skin, and Pran listened intently,
answering all the doctor asked. He gave directions
for Kol's care, and then he gave a bottle of medicine
— that magic something wise people had. Pran asked
him timidly if Kol was very ill. He reassured her:
"Do exactly what I tell you, and the baby will be all
right. You can remember all?''

Pran moved her head sideways for "yes" and
answered, " Po, bessa, it is all written in my head and
not a word of it will I forget."

The nurse bathed Kol then in a little tub such as
Pran had never seen before. Then she rubbed the
baby with sweet oil and gave the first small dose of
medicine. Afterward she tied in a cloth for Pran six
cans of milk. Already Kol seemed happier. The nurse
wrapped round him a clean soft cloth and gave her a
fresh woolen strip to wrap outside of it. "He needs
more air," she said, and Pran left off three coverings,
confident that the soft-voiced gentle woman knew
more than Kol's own mother even.

Pran was happy now, for she felt that she had done
the best that could be done for Kol. She murmured
her thanks, taking the nurse's hand and pressing it
a moment to her forehead and her heart. She tied the

pran's errand 85

cradle to her back again and went outside. The sun
was lowering as she left the place.

Now for the bazaar. Her mind at ease, she could
enjoy herself during this last hour of day. Her feet
trod lightly, and the cradle's weight seemed nothing
to her now.

She took her way back to the main road and to-
ward the still crowded square, passing the tiny open
shops that lined the street each side. Inside each shop
sat men cross-legged on the floor, making with strong,
skillful hands all sorts of articles for sale — shoes,
whips, and belts; and fezzes — red for the Mussulmans,
and brown and black and white for Christian men.

She heard down the dark narrow Street of Copper-
smiths the ringing sound of hammers striking metal;
and she saw about her people from a score of diiFerent
tribes — some dressed as she was, and some decked in
the brilliant white and scarlet of the lowlanders
whose lands were rich. She saw the wives of Mussul-
mans in black with faces covered by veils, and eyes
that looked through slits or through gauze, half
hidden. The stiff embroidered costume, black and red,
of Skodra women drew her admiration. It must be
fine to go appareled in such gay stuffs, but, after all,
such flapping sandals and such full hanging trousers
would never do for mountain traveling. Now ^md

86 PRAN OF ALBANIA

then a friend or acquaintance gave her a greeting,
and Pran stopped to make courteous inquiries for
every member of the family.

She bought her sugar first, paying for it one of
her silver coins. Then she went on and found the tin-
smith. Here scores of little pots and pans and pitch-
ers were set out on the ground, while in the midst sat
the tinsmith himself. She picked out two small pails,
one with a wire handle and one with a handle more
like a jug. She gave him her other coin and was not
pleased when the man gave her small paper notes for
change. She objected, holding the paper out, "Such
money is no good. I must have coins."

He argued back, but Pran held her ground firmly
till, delving into a pocket of his baggy pants, reluc-
tantly he drew out large copper pieces and a bit of
small silver. **Here, then, mountaineer," he said,
grudgingly handing them to her. She gave him back
the paper notes, wrapping the coins up in her cloth
and tucking them in her belt. She smiled at him and
said, "Real money is hard, Zotni, and can be felt
between the teeth. Save paper for the Skodrans. We
Maltsors must hear our money dink." He laughed
at her, but Pran was satisfied. With her neckerchief
she bound the pails to her belt at one side. She turned
away.

CHAPTER VI

MO UNTAIN FIRE

NOW she would look about for Nush. It was too
late, perhaps. She walked once through the
crowd around the central square, and then, seeing so
few mountain people, she made up her mind that if
Nush had come he had gone long since. It would be
dark soon. Even now she noticed that the shopmen
were setting up the wooden planks that shut their
shops at night. The crowd was thinning rapidly.

Pran took the road out of the *'old town," as the
bazaar was called. She must be thinking of her night's
lodging now. She heard hurrying steps behind heiy
drew aside that whoever was in such haste might
pass her easily. But no one passed. She walked on, then
she slowed. The steps slowed too. Someone was fol-
lowing her!

She thought of Nush, half turned, and then,
glimpsing the red fez of a Mussulman, she changed
her mind and went more quickly. The steps quick-
ened behind her. Pran's heart beat fast a moment.

87

88 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Why was she followed? Ndrek was not in blood; no
enemy could be tracing him through her. Uneasiness
grew upon her. She had reached the square where in
the daytime all the coachmen sat on their high
carriage seats waiting for fares. It was deserted now.
She thought, "At the Great Street FU turn and ask
him what he wants."

At the corner she turned. Six feet behind her was
the boy — for he was just a boy. He was dressed in
the Mussulman fashion: thin blouse with jacket over,
and the loose trousers like bags, and on his head the
red fez of Mohammed. Why did he stand there look-
ing at her so? She knew no Mussulman youth. The
boy took one step nearer. Pran stood still. He took
another step, and now in the dim light Pran saw his
face clearly; the firm mouth smiling, and the gray-
blue eyes. "Why, Nush!'* She nearly dropped her
distaff in surprise.

"Yes, Nush," he said, "and Nush so well disguised
you did not know him. Long life. How have you
made the trail?"

"Long life," she answered. "I have made the
trail slowly, slowly, little by little."

"Good, mir," he answered. "Are you tired out?"

"Yo," said Pran, meaning "no." "I rested well
last night in Gjoanni and went not so far to-day."

MOUNTAIN FIRE 89

Nush Stood by her now, and Pran looked at him
somewhat askance, in disapproval. "Such clothing
does not fit a Christian boy," she said. *'Why do you
change your faith for Skodra streets.^*'

"I change my looks," said Nush, *'for safety's
sake, but not my faith. Look closely, and you'll see
that my red fez is not so high as those Mohammed
chose. It is the red fez of Skodra's Christian men,
having the long blue tassel. I cut the tassel ofF. And so
it fits my costume; but I avoid the sin of wearing
heathen headgear. You see.^" He took it ofF and
showed her.

But Pran was not pleased. "He who has done no
evil should not hide," she insisted.

"Only the spoon knows what's in the dish," said
Nush, "and a man is tied by his word as a cow by her
horns. I have given my bessa that I would not let
myself be recognized. Other hearts than mine beat
fast when danger threatens me."

Pran turned away a bit impatiently and walked
out the Great Street. But Nush kept pace beside
her.

"You too wear a disguise," he said accusingly.

"I?" Pran's voice denied.

"Surely," said Nush, "a baby's cradle on your
back — that is disguise enough. And then besides you

90 PRAN OF ALBANIA

make a puzzle of it, for you still wear the dress of an
unmarried girl. When I first saw you I was all con-
fused, thinking the child was yours, not knowing
you.'*

Pran laughed. "The baby is my cousin. I have been
to Skodra*s doctor with him. There is no mystery in
what I do."

"I have a question, Pran," said Nush more
seriously.

"And I have answer for it." She looked at him
striding along beside her. "On the Feast Day I dis-
charged the trust you gave me, Nush. I found Gjyl —
and I gave her the gold coin, just as you asked, with-
out a word of you. Nor have I told a living soul that I
saw you in Thethi. There, my friend — for you are
that, in spite of wearing clothes no Christian should."

"A thousand, thousand thanks, Pran," answered
Nush. "You are a friend, and some day I will speak
frankly as friends should speak; but now — trust me
as I did you."

"I will," said Pran, "I do. And it is true that, being
a man, you live more dangerously than I, a woman,
do. So — peace, and a bessa between you and me." She
smiled, and he smiled back.

"I have a pledge of friendship for you, Pran,"
said he, fumbling at the folds of his wrapped wide

MOUNTAIN FIRE QJ

belt. "I did not think to see you, but I have carried
it about me hoping I would."

"What do you mean, Nush?" Pran asked curi-
ously.

He drew out of his belt a long cord tied like a neck-
lace. From the center hung three silver coins, and on
each side were bear's teeth hanging like long beads
of ivory. "It is for you,'* he said, handing it to her.

Pran took it, smiling with pleasure. "Thank you
with all my heart, Nush. It is beautiful. But you
make too great payment for a small service, and a
service I owed you, too, after Nik's accident." She
fingered the coins and felt the sharp tip of each white
tusk. "It's lovely," and she hung it round her neck.
Then she laughed softly, saying teasingly, "Now
you have added more to my disguise. For so the
brides go, all decked with beads and coins."

"It becomes you," said Nush admiringly.

They came to the convent corner. "I must turn
here," said Pran. "I have a paper for the Friar's
sister, a novice there. It is there I sleep."

"Don't go there yet," begged Nush. "I want to
show you something first — something important."
His face was grave now in the half darkness.

"What.^" said Pran, half curious, half in dread at
Nush's tone.

92 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"Walk out with me — out to the city's edge. No
one is on the street, and anyway, we will be but
mountaineers that go back from Skodra Bazaar. No
one will notice."

"After dark everyone notices who goes," said
Pran, but she wavered, agreeing. "Very well, Til

go."

"We will go quickly," said Nush. "And what I
have to show can be seen best in darkness. Then
when you come back — alone — I go to Drishti for the
night — you, being a woman carrying a child, will
arouse no questions. Come."

Together they went on along Rruga Madhe, the
Great Street, that led out to the city's edge. Nush
was silent now, and Pran was busy with her thoughts,
wondering what Nush had in his mind, bringing her
so far out when night had fallen and all good folk
should be housed safely from danger of darkness.
She knew that between the city and the plain the
mountains edged it was bad for night going. Here
horse thieves and other breakers of the law had ref-
uge, and an innocent wanderer, taking the level
pathway to the hills, would hear a rifle shot and
then the singing of a bullet past his ear.

"This is a crazy thing you do," she told Nush
warningly.

MOUNTAIN FIRE 93

They had reached a crossroad at the Hmit of the
town. "This road leads north. We turn here/'
answered Nush. "The way is not dangerous. Hurry
— only a little farther."

They went perhaps a hundred paces on the road,
Nush pulling at Pran's arm, for she had slowed her
steps, growing unwilling at the distance now. She
was silent, half afraid beside him. Her eyes watched
the rough way with difficulty through the dark.

Suddenly Nush stopped, holding her back. "Stand
where you are, Pran, and — look!" he said in a tense
whisper, raising an arm and sweeping it toward the
north.

Pran started at his tone and raised her eyes, look-
ing up toward the north hills beyond the level plain
that stretched dimly before them.

The hills lay dark — dark walls of rock that shut
out Montenegro and the Slavs; but as her eyes fixed
them suddenly she saw they were not all in darkness,
for a light glowed from the top of one, and as she
looked it was as if the summit of the next took fire
from that first flame and kindled into a torch. Two
torches shone.

"Fires," whispered Nush hoarsely, ''fires. You
know for what?"

Pran's heart gave a great leap and stopped and

94 PRAN OF ALBANIA

beat again wildly. Her breath came fast. She gazed
motionless, fascinated. Now a far hill across a distant
valley took up the light and itself burned a torch
against the night. As the three fires flared there flared
in Pran's brain the meaning of them all. "Signals,"
she said, breathless a little, and dread swept over her.
''The signal fires!''

Nush dropped her arm and stood looking as she
did at the strong points of light blazing so far away.

Then he said, still speaking softly as though he
could be overheard in this soHtude of stars and dark-
ness and rustling dry grass, "I heard it all to-day
in the bazaar. The fires are lit; the tribes are
gathering. War comes from there,*' he pointed to
the north, **over the boundaries of Castrati and the
northern villages. We see to-night the lightning of
the storm that threatens us. I wanted you to see. Eyes
bear better witness to the truth than ears can do."

Pran spoke then, drawing in a long breath: **I
have seen the lightning, and I understand."

**You know the song, Pran?" asked Nush, and he
hummed a tune; then, reaching the words he wanted,
sang them so Pran could hear:

"Come, ye Northerners, come, ye Southerners,
Fly hke the hghtning that burns as it goes!"

MOUNTAIN FIRE 95

The song Pran knew, though the music was unlike
mountain music.

Nush said, "To-night the lightning strikes one hill
after another. And so war starts; a small fire, spread-
ing, spreading — spreading."

Pran shuddered; then, steadying her heart, she
answered, "Yes, but you did not finish the song,
Nush. It is the song of Albania, and these words fol-
low the ones you sang for me," and she took up the
tune where he had left it :

"Come, ye sons of Lek, come, ye moun-
taineers.
Brave men hand in hand."

Her heart rose as she sang, repeating the refrain as
the song repeats it, "Brave men hand in hand."

Like water flowing through the mill race she could
feel now courage that flooded her. The high spirit of
a thousand generations of mountain hearts was
hers. Her dread was gone. As she finished she smiled
at Nush in the darkness.

"It is a good song," he said quietly. "How does it
go?"

Pran sang it all in the same deep voice she had
used for Kola's song.

96 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"Like a wing of the angel of God
The flag of Albania is flying,
Calhng the sons of Skanderbeg
To stand against the foe.
Come, ye Tosks, come, ye Ghegs,
Fly like the lightning that burns as it goes,
Come, ye sons of Lek, come, ye Maltsors,
Brave men, hand in hand."

It was pitch dark now save where the light of the
rising moon showed white in the east.

**I must go back, Nush," said Pran hurriedly. "I
must go back."

"Well, you have seen," said Nush. "Now warn
them in Thethi. Other warnings will come, but time
is short now. Tell them the signal fires burn in the
north and that the Slav strikes through Montenegro,
not through Kossova, this time."

He took her hand. "I go now to Drishti over the
plain to the south. I shall go carefully. Do not think
of me. Good luck, Pran. Heaven send blessing on you
and on your house. You have my necklace. It will
protect you. Each bear's tooth is a spear to guard
you, and the three coins are the three times we've
seen each other, sealing our trust and friendship.
Long life to you, Pran; go on a smooth trail."

MOUNTAIN FIRE 97

"Peace go with you, Nush/* she answered, and
wanted to say more, but he had turned swiftly.
Darkness swallowed him. She was alone.

From the cradle came the faint crying of Baby
Kola.

"Poor little acorn," whispered Pran, "I will go
quickly to the nuns' house and care for you."

In a moment her tenderness for the baby had
driven these new thoughts out of her head. She had
done wrong to stay out so long. What would the
nuns think of such a late arrival at their gates?
"Sh! Sh!" she crooned softly to Kola as her feet
went fast on the dark road back to the town and
safety.

She had to knock loud and long at the great gate of
the convent. But Friar Gjiergj's letter smoothed her
way, and without question she was given room to
sleep near the big iron stove in the "fire room."

The nun, at her asking, got a bowl and spoon, and
Pran warmed and mixed some of the new milk she
had got from the nurse that day. She was glad to see
that Baby Kol took it with eagerness. Hunger was a
good sign after his starving so. Unused to such
duties, Pran made clumsy work of feeding him at
first, but soon it went smoothly, and no drop was
spilled. The nun had gone, and they two were alone.

98 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran rocked the cradle, singing softly a wordless tune
until Kol slept. Then she lay down beside him on the
floor and curled herself under the blanket that the
nun had given. She felt all at once come over her a
desperate weariness. But just before she slept she
saw again clearly, as if she dreamed, the three hills
with the torch of flame on each. Then sleep fell on
her heavily. Only once she wakened in the night,
roused by the sharp crack of a rifle in the street. But
silence followed, and she slept again.

Dawn found her started on the long way toward
home. She thought, ** There will be welcome indeed
for me and Baby Kol, but there will be no welcome
for the tidings that I bring — only a sorrow and fore-
boding." She spun, for thread was needed; but she
did not sing.

CHAPTER VII

LIT S KY

NDREK came home from Skodra with his belt
full of new cartridges and in both hands heavy
burdens tied up in cloths. Pran watched him open
these — more cartridges. Evil was on the way. Since
two weeks ago, when she had seen the signal fires
with Nush, such preparations had been going on.
The corn had sprouted. Tiny green spears pricked
up. Pran looked at them and wondered, sad at
heart, ''Would this crop ever be harvested.'' Or
would the dear fields be laid waste by hordes of
marauding Slavs?"

Lukja had tied up all the cornmeal, not needed
for every day, in strong bags, roped for carrying. If
trouble came the women and children would have to
go far for safety, and how to eat if food were not
ready for the trail and for living after.?

Easter had come and gone. They all had worn
the fine Easter clothing. But over the celebration of
the mass and through the feasting a cloud had hung

99

ICX) PRAN OF ALBANIA

and a grim sense of coming disaster had darkened
the spring sunlight.

Sometimes, feeling this sense all through her,
Pran's heart had ached with a real ache that kept her
from smiles and singing, often from eating; and at
night, lying alone in her corner under her blanket,
sometimes her little courage would leave her and she
would feel the tears creeping out under her closed lids.
And once, in the thick darkness of the shut house,
where only the faint red glow of the banked fire on
the hearth made less than light, she had got up
softly and gone over to where the twin boys lay
sleeping. Kneeling beside them she had laid her hands
on the two warm bodies, and then, signing herself
with the holy sign of the cross, she had prayed hard —
to St. Nicholas and to St. John, and last and longest
to the Holy Virgin — that they would beseech Zot-i-
Madhe — God — to spare these two, save them from
suffering and disaster. Then, creeping back, she had
lain long hours in the dark — waiting, waiting for the
blow to fall.

Little news came now. Few took the trail. Mostly
the villages lay quiet within their mountain walls —
waiting — as she did.

One day the blow fell.

It was evening, and wood was needed for the sup-

LIT SKY lOI

per fire. Pran, that day, her thoughts too busy with
this foreboding, had forgotten to bring it in. To-night
she went outside for it. The wood pile lay to the west
of a small penthouse of woven branches. Pran, whose
eyes saw easily through the semi-darkness, went over
to it. Leaning, she faced the east, but as she rose with
her burden her eyes were raised to the western sky.
A glow shone there. She stood transfixed. The glow
was not the white light of the moon : rather it had a
rosy tinge — too red for natural Hght. Her heart gave
a great leap and choked her. The light flared more
and the low sky took on a deeper color. Fire — it was !
Fire! And in her brain the meaning of it flared. Not
burning woods made that, but the thatched roofs of
homes, and stores of grain — the silo pile — and corn-
cribs ! A village burned !

Evil had struck at last. She stared in growing
horror for a full minute longer. Then she dropped her
wood and ran back to the house and up the stone
steps to the upper room. It seemed as if she felt her
own heart break, seeing the peaceful group — her
parents and two guests and Nik and Gjon — crouch-
ing in quiet talk about the hearth.

Breathless she stood in the door. "Father —
Mother " she said.

They stared at her white face.

I02 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"What is it, girl? What have you seen?" cried
Lukja. Ndrek stood up and reached to the wall for
his rifle. **What comes?'* his calm voice asked.
The guests rose slowly. The little boys watched
out of wide fearful eyes.

Pran, furious at her voice's trembling, found words
at last, "The sky glows red in the west. A village is
on fire. I saw the light."

Without a word the three men went outside. They
soon came back, stern faced, but quiet still.

Ndrek said to Lukja, "Get ready, wife. War
comes. Pack things for fleeing. We men will stay and
do all that we can."

Lukja said no word. She got the bags of meal.
She bound them to Pran's back. She tied blankets
in a great roll and fastened these to herself. Pran
saw her wrap inside them a pot or two for cooking,
and she did not forget a bunch of wool for spinning
and her distaff" and spindle. Nik and Gjon, be-
wildered, stood watching her.

Then Ndrek said, "We will watch the flames, and
Marash here will go toward Boga to find out what is
happening. You and the children sit down below
near the door, ready to take the trail. If there is
present danger you must start at once — for Skodra.

LIT SKY lOJ

If there is time it will be better to make the joume3f
with the dawn. The trail is safer in the day."

At her father's quiet steady voice Pran felt come
into her a strength and calmness. Suddenly she knew
she was glad that this had come at last and put an
end to the long agony of waiting she had felt ever
since she had got back from Skodra. Better to know
than wait. Better to be active in the face of evil than
to wake each morning anxious and wondering and
sleep each night not knowing what might befall before
one waked again.

Shots rang out in the village — shots for warning
and summons. The church bell tolled. In the Friar's
house lights were lit. She knew the Friar was slipping
off his brown robes for the freer garments of a man.
He had a rifle too. He was not just a priest for
peace times. Holy men could fight as well as others —
better, perhaps, being so close to God.

Her heart beat a strange, glad tattoo against her
breast. Excitement thrilled her. "Sons of Lek, sons
of the mountains — brave men, hand in hand!"

The men went out.

Lukja gave Pran and the boys cornbread to eat,
heating for herself some coflPee in the tiny brass pan.
Pran thought, seeing her mother at this work of coffee

I04 PRAN OF ALBANIA

making, rightfully Ndrek's, "Father is gone. She makes
thecofFeenow."ShetookthecupLukjagaveherthank-
fully, not forgetting the usual words of ceremony,
"May you find good fortune!" How could Lukja
find good fortune in this catastrophe that threatened
them? Leaving her house — her crops — and leaving
her man, Ndrek — Pran's father — close to the spread-
ing fire of this evil? Perhaps — Pran stamped on her
rising fear — *'Like a wing of the angel of God" —
"O God ! — protect Ndrek ! " The hot cofl^ee went down
over a sudden lump in her throat.

To wait now for the dawn.

Lukja piled ashes on the fire she had revived for
making coffee. As Pran watched her she felt sorrow
at this dimming of the hearth. The house fire. Such
fires were never meant to go out. Sometimes it was
the bride comingto her own homewho brought the live
coal to kindle her new hearth. She knew her mother,
when she had come to Ndrek, had carried with her
fire tongs from her own hearth — her father's. Women
kept fires burning. Who would keep this now when
they were gone — miles on the long hard trails over
the fog-hung passes ? Pran could see this hearth grow-
ing colder each day until at last it lay holding dead
ashes in an empty house. A pity stirred her. Tears
started to her eyes. Quickly she rubbed them oflF,

LIT SKY lOS

They all went down the stone steps and seated
themselves on the floor near the great wooden outer
door.

A bleating and cackling sounded in the dark pen
behind them. "The animals, Nona, who will care for
them?*' Fran's voice was anxious.

"Give them some food, Pran," said Lukja. "If I
were sure we should not ever come back Fd turn them
loose rather than leave them here to make a feast for
Slavic soldiers. Let Nik carry two hens for us, and
take Hana, your kid. Gjon can lay her across his
shoulders, big as she is. She will save us from hunger,
maybe."

Pran lit a pitch-pine splinter from the coals up-
stairs and then held it for the boys, who, glad to be
active, climbed into the pen and caught two clucking
hens. Nik held them by the feet, their long wings
drooping. Gjon led Hana out, fondling and petting
her. "You'll go a journey fitting for the moon to-
night," Pran heard him say. Giving Gjon the burning
splinter of wood to hold, she dragged down green
branches from the ceiling and threw armfuls of them
into the pen for the sheep and goats. She scattered
corn by handfuls for the hens. As she moved she
felt the meal sacks pressing on her back.

What waste it was leaving the animals — their

I06 PRAN OF ALBANIA

treasured stock, that meant food and clothing for
them all, leaving them here uncared for — perhaps to
die; or if not that, then to be slaughtered by the first
soldiers entering the village. She filled the water
troughs to overflowing. Her eyes were dry, but it was
as if her very heart within her wept tears of helpless-
ness— as a child cries^ defrauded.

She sat down with the others near the door. At
his mother's request Gjon had lit a tiny fire in
the high fireplace — ^just enough to make a little light
and send great shadows dancing here and there. The
light brought comfort. The house was not dead yet.

How brave her mother was! Pran looked at her
strong face outlined against the dark load of blankets
at her back. Lukja^s eyes were clear and unafraid.
Her fine and nobly moulded features were set in
firm quiet lines. She sat silent, unmoving. Pran
thought, "In her heart is pain — greater than mine."
She moved a little nearer to Lukja.

"Nona," she whispered, "have you seen war
before?"

Her mother's head moved slowly from side to side,
affirmative. "I was a girl like you, Pran, when three
armies crossed our land, despoiling it. No animal
survived. They sacked each house, though we were
iiiot the enemy they sought. Many of us fled as we

LIT SKY 107

flee now. My own mother died, being too weak to
flee. So life is."

Pran did not answer, but her thoughts rose in a
fierce wave of anger. *'So life is*' — well, then life
was not fit for living, being so. Planting and harvest
all for waste like this; tending the herds to have them
slaughtered so; bearing sons and daughters only that
they should know this homelessness. Life could not —
must not be so. Her fists clenched themselves in the
dark.

Lukja said, **If Ndrek comes back then we must
go — if not, at least we'll have the dawn for company."

"To wait for day is better," answered Pran.

Nik and Gjon whispered softly together. No need
for chiding, thought Pran, they would both be good
boys to-day. She smiled to herself in sadness that this
was so. They were so little to face what lay ahead.

The fire burned down to ashes. Lukja did not build
it up again. They sat in darkness, waiting. How long
the night was! Once Pran drowsed, leaning her head
back on the full sacks of meal. Gjon had tied Hana
to the doorpost, and Nik had bound his hens' legs.
The two boys curled into sleep together. Only Lukja
stayed awake, her ears listening for her man's step
on the path.

Just before dawn he came. Pran saw his tall,

I08 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Straight figure in the doorway, outlined against the
lightening sky. She waked the boys.

"It is the farther villages that burn," he told
them. "We are safe as yet. It seems the enemy enters
nearer Castrati as we expected, but sends bands on
to burn these northern villages. No use to stay.
It will be Thethi next. Better to start at once.
Skodra is safer.''

Then he said good-bye to all of them, bidding the
boys be brave. "Remember — you are men," he said,
"and mountain men with hearts of mountain
strength.''

Pran, who had worn her bear's-tooth necklace
every day since Nush had given it, tore off it now one
of the sharp white tusks. She pressed it into Ndrek's
hand. "This is for good luck, Baba," she said softly,
"it will protect you through what danger you must
meet. Keep it."

Her father kissed her cheek, laughing a little; but
he put the tooth carefully into the flat metal box
where he carried his tobacco for cigarettes. This
never left him. "Falemi nderes, Pran," he said.
"Be brave as I must be, and help Lukja all you can.
I know you will. Things will be hard for her in
Skodra. Care for your brothers. After this war is
done we shall need men."

LIT SKY 109

Pran could not answer. She choked a little, seeing
him go out again, holding his rifle ready; leaving his
house forsaken, open to attack, and all destruction;
his herds uncared for, and his new-sprung corn to
stand unharvested.

Faintest dawn showed now. They started out. Nik
swung his two fat hens in either hand. Gjon shoul-
dered manfully the heavy kid. Lukja led the way with
her great burden hiding half of her, while last of all
Pran walked, her back bent slightly under the full
bags of cornmeal.

They did not go alone. All Thethi moved. Dozens
of families who, like themselves, had waited for the
dawn, took the trail now. Old and young women,
children, big and small, babies in cradles on their
mothers' backs, all journeyed. Not a man was there.
Each, like Ndrek, had sped to halt disaster if he
could, or die attempting it.

Everyone carried household goods as they did,
and all walked silently, some fast, some slow, and
wore serious, unsmiling faces. Only the littlest chil-
dren cried and clung to the heavy swinging skirts of
their mothers.

In Pran's heart the ache began again. So many
going forth homeless like themselves; so many
houses left empty and forlorn; the hearths all grow-

no PRAN OF ALBANIA

ing cold and colder like their own. Behind the trudg-
ing twins Pran thought, "No one can see." So, for a
little while, she let her tears come without sobbing.
They fell on her new necklace with its three bright
coins, on her new Easter jacket. She did not care.
A strange thought came to her — that she was cry-
ing not for herself alone, not for her lost home only,
but for all these that went with her on the trail,
for all these homes forsaken and unwarmed.

She thought of Nush. Where was he now.? Was his
house threatened too? Did he, like her, start forward
in the dawn, tramping a dreary way from all he loved
— old comfort and old safety? Did he too go blindly
to unsure things — and certain misery?

She rubbed at her tears fiercely, stifling the
breaths that would turn to sobs in spite of her. Nush
would not cry. Nush would go bravely, as men go —
facing disaster with a heart as staunch and unyielding
as the mountain walls about him. Well, then she
would not cry, either. Was she not daughter to
Ndrek, the son of Palok, her grandfather? Was
she not Lukja's girl, born of brave parents into a
stern life where danger swallowed safety overnight.^
She would not cry.

She would sing songs instead; show Lukja that she
could bear trouble with a strong heart. The boys

LIT SKY III

were sad enough, dragging their little feet ahead of
her. How steadily her mother walked ! She once had
gone a way like this before. Yet she went bravely.
Softly Pran sang the song she'd sung for Nush out-
side of Skodra, on that evening they had seen together
on the northern hills the warning of this peril, come
at last. The tune was martial, and her feet kept time.

"Like a wing of the angel of God
The flag of Albania is flying.
Calling the sons of Skanderbeg
To stand against the foe.
Come, ye Tosks, come, ye Ghegs,
Fly like the lightning that burns as it goes,
Come, ye sons of Lek, come, ye Maltsors,
Brave men, hand in hand."

New courage filled her. She took out her knitting
from her blouse and set her slim needles flying back
and forth. "So life is," Lukja had said. Well, then,
she'd live it.

The sun rose higher. The soft air of spring blew
past her. Ahead stretched the way. She saw the nar-
row trail like a waving ribbon lying along the sides
of farther hills.

The words of another song came into her head,
the song the twins had sung that happy day last fall.

112 PRAN OF ALBANIA

She would not sing it; it was too sad; but she could
not keep the words from singing themselves to their
own tune through her head. It was the men's song.
They had made it long ago, during such trouble as
she suffered now.

**How they weep, how they weep,
My mothers and my sisters!
How they weep, how they weep,
My mothers and my sisters!
Come, men, gather on the rock's top.
Follow, men, follow after the flag.
Rifle shots shatter the air.
The flag flutters in the wind,
For Hberty let me die!"

Ndrek? A sharp pain shot through her. But Ndrek
had her bear's tooth. That would protect him. He
would be safe. He would not die. She prayed.

The long way was over at last. There had been
little rest, and little sleep, and not too much to eat —
food must be saved.

The mountain passes, or "necks," as Pran called
them, had been rainy and damp. On the highest,
Chafa Bishkasit, snow had lain. The year was early
yet. Who could tell when this snow had melted where
they would be.^ Would they cross the neck going to

LIT SKY 113

their ruined homes before snow fell again ? Who could
tell?

As they went people of many another ruined or
threatened village joined with them. Bedraggled,
weary, heartworn, and yet stepping with their own
strange desperate courage, the mountain refugees
trooped toward the city over Skodra Plain.

Where could so many lodge?

The ruined empty stone shells of barracks that
long ago had held Turkish soldiers offered them
refuge. Here they crowded in, built little fires,
crouched about them, cooked what they had to cook.

Pran killed and cooked one of Nik's hens. Among
the crowd she and the boys and Lukja squatted about
the little flame and ate, nibbling the boiled flesh from
the warm bones gratefully. They gave to some people
near them who had brought nothing. A girl, stranger
to Pran, about her own age, raised to Pran's face two
soft blue eyes large with fatigue and sadness. "God's
blessing on you," she said to Pran, reaching a thin
hand for the proffered food.

Pran smiled back at her, " Eat with good appetite,"
she said. "Here all are sisters."

That night she shared her blanket with the girl.
Stars shone through the roofless shelter on the two.

The new life had begun.

CHAPTER VIII

REFUGEE

IT WAS a strange life. One could not shut the doors
and windows at night, for in the great stone ruin
there were no doors; and the windows, instead of
being the safe little shuttered holes of a mountain
house, were big gaping openings in the thick stone
wall. There was little roof left anywhere on the low
spreading buildings. Pran thought, "It is lucky the
winter rains are past."

It was queer Hving all together like this, friends
and strangers. For there were not just Thethi people,
but people from a dozen other villages, from different
tribes, even. They all used Pran's language, but some
of them had strange ways of saying the words she
knew. And some of her words sounded strange to
them, and often she and a stranger child would laugh
a little at each other.

The blue-eyed girl she had befriended that first
night stayed with Pran's family every day now. Her
name was Dil.

"4

REFUGEE 115

"Where is your mother, Dil?" asked Pran one day
as she and Dil sat in the ruined doorway.

Dil's eyes filled with quick tears. *'Ka dek," she
said, and her hand moved as mountain people move a
hand speaking of the dead — a covering motion as of
earth being laid over a grave. Dil had lived close to
Slavic land, and now her village was called a part of
South Slavia. Her mother had been killed by a Slavic
bullet. She did not know where her father was nor her
younger brother and baby sister. It was two years
now since she had left her village, two years of
wandering with other villagers, living now here, now
there, wherever living could be found.

"At first," she told Pran, ''the Slavic soldiers
camped quite close to us. They did no harm. I used
to run errands sometimes for the men. I learned some
of their language. Then one day more came. They
burned the village. We all fled. I thought the children
had gone on ahead — when I caught up with the rest
they were not there. All suffered so — few families
were left entire." Dil turned away her head. Pran
touched her hand but found no word to say.

Dil shook her sadness off, turned her head back,
and smiled. ** Sorrow once buried deep must not be
brought to life again with words," she said. ''Better
to talk of other things. I told you I had learned some

Il6 PRAN OF ALBANIA

of the Slav language. Once, speaking it, I saved my
own life. It is good to know the enemy's tongue. If
they should get to Skodra I would be safer, Pran,
than you would be. I'll teach you, shall I?"

Pran agreed gladly. Here in this barrack life there
was no work and little play or singing. She found
diversion sitting in the shadow of the wall with Dill
learning the strange words, practising the sounds.
"I like to learn it, Dil," she said, "but we shall not
need to speak it here. The Slavs cannot get to
Skodra. Ndrek said Skodra was safe."

**We thought that Prifti, my village, was safe too,"
said Dil.

The days went on. The scorching hot sun of sum-
mer burned down on the barracks and their roofless
walls. The Kiri River at the plain's edge dried. It was
hard to find water for anything.

At first there was enough to eat for Pran and Dil
and Lukja and the boys. But always Lukja gave
small helpings to her family. "No one knows where
more will come from," she said, and every day she
went to the bazaar and sat with many other mountain
women in the square, her long goat's hair rope wrap-
ped round her arm and shoulder, waiting for a chance
to carry heavy goods home for the purchasers and so
to earn a few pennies to buy food for all of them.

REFUGEE 117

Pran spun all the wool Lukja had brought from
home and sold it, wound in great gray-white balls,
on Bazaar Day. There was not much.

Some of the smaller children from the barracks
went begging daily on the streets of Skodra. Nik and
Gjon asked to go too. "No," said Pran," we are not as
hungry as that — not yet."

Gjon and Nik spent much time at the bazaar look-
ing for errands to run. Gjon helped the pretzel man
to sell his pretzels, carrying the big thin twisted
pretzels strung on a long light stick over his shoul-
der.

But the cornmeal went fast, and all the pennies
Lukja could gather bought but a small bagful.

One day Dil said, *'I have a plan for us, Pran!"

"What?" asked Pran

"I have eaten much of your food,^ said Dil, "and
I have shared your blanket; now I will help a little."

She led Pran to the far end of one of the barracks,
where an old woman sat by a heap of twigs and
faggots.

The two girls greeted her. "See," said Dil, "she
makes brooms. But the dampness of this life in winter
has got into her bones and she cannot go after the
brush any more. She tells me that if we will get the
brush she will show us how to make brooms, and she

Il8 PRAN OF ALBAifIA

will make them too, and you and I can sell them on
the street and at the doors of houses."

The old woman's name was Gal FasHja. By the
strange sound of it Pran knew her tribe was Mussul-
man, not Christian Hke her own. **But her heart,"
whispered Dil, "is as kind as any Christian heart.
Kinder than some. She wants to help us.''

The old woman smiled toothlessly up at them. She
said, "You are strong, you two — you are young.
War is nothing to you. But you will be hungry soon
as I am; and there will be no harvest in the fall for
anyone. Sit down, then, and I will show you how
brooms must be made if you would sell them in
Skodra."

Pran had often bound small twigs together for the
hearth broom at home, but she could see that the
brooms Gal made were stronger and better, made of
less brittle twigs. And some of them Gal made with
little handles sticking out from the center of the
bunched faggots.

Dil and Pran sat down and watched her work, help-
ing sometimes, and learning the knack of winding the
flat binding strip and fastening its end. As they
worked Gal told them where to go to-morrow for
the brush they needed, told them how to choose it
from the rest, how young, how stiflF, what sort. "I

REFUGEE 119

Will make two fine broom-makers of you," she told
them.

The girls worked hard all morning, worked till
Gal had no more twigs left to work with, and their
hands were sore. But that night, when they showed
their neatly made brooms to Lukja, they were proud
and heard her words of praise with glad hearts.

"Good daughters," said Lukja. *'No one can starve
when there are five able fingers to a hand. You have
done well."

But in her heart she knew it was one thing to make
brooms and another to sell them.

However, Dil and Pran started out early for the
bazaar, and for a while business went well and cop-
per coins jingled together in Pran's tied kerchief.
"Now I am really helping Lukja," thought Pran.
"I am doing just what Ndrek trusted me to do."
She felt content.

She and Dil spent two coppers for a tiny hot cup
of coffee when the coffee boy went by with his
swinging tray. In the afternoon, when they found
Lukja sitting with the other women in the cobbled
square resting from her porter's work, they carried
her a cup. Lukja smiled, thanking them. "Falemi
nderes," she said, "I have two daughters now." They
all walked back to the barracks together at sunset,

I20 PRAN OF ALBANIA

cheered by the unwonted treat and hopeful — against
all hope.

For the warfare at the border dragged along. Now
and then they heard rumors of the fighting and
sometimes saw the trucks of wounded men being
brought in to Skodra hospital. They had no way of
learning where Ndrek was or if he fought there with
the nearer tribes. Often at night Pran lay awake be-
side the sleeping Dil and wondered, and prayed
prayers to St. Andrew for him and always to the
kind-faced Mother painted in the church. "Let my
bear's tooth protect Ndrek," she prayed.

The summer days wore on. Pran and Dil climbed
into the thickets beyond the plain, gathering brush
for their brooms, and they would bear great burdens
of it back to Gal, who sat always in her desolate
little corner, working with her crippled hands and
smiling at the industry of her two helpers. Sometimes
she told them strange stories out of old lore, and they
would sit with nimble, busy fingers, beguiled like little
children, listening.

The helpings of cornmeal were smaller now, and
Pran and the rest were often hungry. The other hen
had been eaten long ago. Nik wound his girdle tight
about his body, straining at the broad band. "Look,
Pran, I've grown so stout with life in Skodra that I

REFUGEE 121

cannot get my belt to wind round me the last turn!'*
"It's true," said Gjon, "the city makes fat men.
Whoever saw a mountaineer with a paunch like these
cofFee-house men of Skodra?"

One day Lukja said, "Hana must go next, Pran,
or we shall starve too soon.'*

The kid was big now. Nik had taken it out to-
ward the mountains to pasture every day. "Hana is
a full-grown goat," Pran said a little sadly, smooth-
ing the shaggy brown hair as the goat crouched be-
side her in their corner of the barrack.

Lukja looked at her, then at the goat. "She is
yours, Pran. If you like you may take her to the
bazaar to-morrow. Better to sell her than to make a
feast of her, perhaps. She has been with us in our
trouble like a friend. Better that she should go to
some goatherd, and wax ever fatter and stronger.
She will bring a good price, for she will give her owner
kids and milk. For us, money is easier to keep and
carry than meat or meal, and I have heard talk of
late in the bazaar that Skodra itself will not be safe
for long. Who knows?"

Pran's heart was sad. She remembered well the day
Hana had been born in one corner of the upper room
at home. She had been born too early in the spring,
and she was weak — too weak to suckle properly.

122 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran had milked the mother goat and with a cloth
sop had sopped up the milk and given the kid the
milk-wet rag to suck. And then at night, when the
room was cold, she had carried Hana to her own cor-
ner and cuddled her close to herself all night under
her blanket so she would be warm. Hana was hers;
she loved her. Moreover, now the goat seemed
to her all that was left to her of the old happy,
busy life at Thethi. If she should be sold then there
was nothing left of all the things of home. She cried
a little, secretly, that night.

But the next day she and Nik led Hana in to
market. Dil stayed with Gal to help her with the
brooms, though now they sold so few they did not
need to work hard. Gjon and Lukja waved them a
good-bye. They would start later for their work in
the bazaar.

"Hana is a fine goat, and a she-goat besides,*' said
Pran to Nik as they walked along Rruga Madhe to-
ward the town. "Moreover, she is my own goat, and I
shall not sell her for nothing.'*

When they reached the market square Nik watched
her bargaining with customers, shaking a firm head
when too small a price was oflFered her. "You will
never sell her," Nik murmured. Pran turned on him.

REFUGEE 123

Her voice was sharp, "Be still, you stupid little
cucumber. I know what I am doing."

But in her heart she knew she did not want to sell
Hana for any price.

So three days she brought the goat back to Lukja
saying, **No one will pay enough.''

On the fourth day she and Nik took a short cut
through a narrow back street to the bazaar. Pran's
feet dragged, and her heart was heavy. Had she not
promised Ndrek she would help Lukja.? Why then
did she refuse so wickedly to sell the goat ? She knew
how low the cornmeal was now in Lukja's last bag.
She knew that yesterday Dil had not sold a single
broom — that the pretzel man had sent Gjon away.
**I do not need a boy any more," he had said. To-day
Hana must be sold.

There was almost a lump in her throat as her bare
feet shuffled over the cobbled way. Yes, to-day Hana
must go. How cruel it was, losing this last link with
home and all the far, happy days of shepherding and
peace. Her eyes blurred. She stumbled, nearly fell.

"Glory to your feet, Shalan! May you not stumble
on misfortune!" Whose voice was that.? Pran started.
It seemed to come out of the gutter close to her. She
looked about her. High stone whitewashed walls

124 PRAN OF ALBANIA

flanked the cobbled way, and at one side, sitting
against the wall, Pran saw two children — a blond
brown-eyed boy and a tiny girl, so tiny and so ragged
crouching there she looked more like a heap of rags
than a real child. Both children squatted by a small
fire built in the gutter out of rubbish. On a stick
stretched over the flame the boy had hung a rusty tin
can with a wire handle, and in this something was
bubbling softly.

Pran went closer to them. How ragged they were:
the torn patched bits of cloth that clothed them both
could hardly cover them. They were more ragged
than any of the barrack children were. And they had
pinched faces, and the pale blue eyes of the tiny girl
looked dazed and hurt. It was the boy who had
spoken, and his eyes now sparkled up at Pran.
"Long life," he said.

"Long life to you,*' said Pran, "and thank you for
your good wish toward me. May you eat well.'* She
peered into their improvised kettle. Only two crusts
of old bread floated there, and a bone bare of all
meat.

Pran's heart went out to them. Two beggar
children, mountain children once, as she could tell by
the look of them and the remnants here and there of
.mountain costume among the torn patched clothes.

REFUGEE 125

Once refugees, as she was now, fled years ago from
war, or famine, or the feud, perhaps. And now, friend-
less and homeless, they had come to this, Hfe on the
streets and now and then the chance of finding pitiful
small scraps of food to eat.

"What is your name.^*" she asked.

The boy stood up, smiling.

"My name is Notz,'' he said, "and this is Lul, my
sister. We are refugees, like you; but we have been
two years and more from home." The little girl stood
staring.

Nik looked now into the can the boy had set on
the ground. "A hungry stomach needs more than
you have there, Notz,** he said.

"Perhaps," the boy answered, as if unwilling to
admit the wretchedness of the meal.

Pran told her name and Nik's. "Where do you
live.^" she asked.

Notz looked about him. "Here," he said and
laughed. And then, as if to defend himself from the
pity gathering in Pran's eyes, he went on, "For me —
I do not mind, but it is hard for Lul. She is not
strong. Sometimes she has the fever. Then we cannot
beg — and there is nothing to eat. Yes, it is hard for
Lul." His eyes rested on Lul's thin face.

Lul, hearing her name, looked a little fearfully

126 PRAN OF ALBANIA

now at the two strangers. Then she moved quickly
close to her brother and took hold of his hand
clutchingly. **Come away," she whispered.

Notz knelt so that her face was on a level with his
own. "Do not be afraid, little flower," he said ear-
nestly, softly. "These are friendly eyes that look at
you. They are Maltsor, these two; even the goat is a
mountaineer," and to Pran, "She is afraid too
easily." He laughed, apologizing, then stood beside
her.

Pran knelt down by Lul and put her arms out and
held her. "How little she is," she said wonderingly,
"and how thin. Are you hungry, Lul?"

Lul smiled a feeble little smile. "Always, Zaiusha,"
she said in a tiny voice.

Through the torn slip that covered her Pran could
see the bones of her body showing. She looked at
Notz, at Nik, and last at fat brown Hana with her
shaggy sleek coat.

"See, Lul," she said, pointing to the goat, "see
that fat, lazy beast.? She has plenty to eat — plenty,
and she does nothing for it. We are tired of her lazi-
ness, and now Nik and I go to the bazaar to sell her
— for money, and with money bread can be bought —
round yellow loaves. Come, you two." She rose, her
glance embracing both the beggar children. "Come

REFUGEE 127

With US now, and I promise, once Hana is sold, you
each shall have a great chunk of buk kalamuchit —
a piece as big as your own heads. On my word I
promise it."

Lul looked at her half in fear, half in wonder, and
then at Notz, to see what he would say.

Notz knelt suddenly in front of Pran and lifted
the edge of her stiff skirt up to his lips to kiss it.
His voice choked. '* Never mind for me," he whis-
pered, "but Lul — Lul " He turned and seized

the little gazing thing in his arms almost fiercely.
"She is my sister," he explained, and showered
kisses on her unkempt yellow hair.

"Bring her," said Pran. "Drive Hana on, Nik."

They all went in procession down the alleyway and
out into the bazaar.

Pran hugged Hana rapturously. " You are worth
something to-day, you lazy blockhead." She held to
Lul's thin hand. "And — oh, what a big price I will
get for her!" she leaned to say into Lul's ear.

Never had Pran bargained so well. There were two
customers, and soon Pran had them bidding against
each other fot ^he goat. The excitement of the dicker-
ing sent color into her cheeks. Her eyes flashed in
mock anger when the bidders wavered at a higher
figure. At last she got one of the men nearly to the

128 PRAN OF ALBANIA

sum she had asked. That was as high as either one
would go — she felt that. *'Take it," she said, handing
the goat's rope to the highest bidder, "take it, but it
is throwing away a good animal for nothing."

She pocketed her silver greedily.

"Now — now — " she had not a glance for the
departing goat — "come, my hungry birds, come
where the com is scattered."

At the baker's wooden shelf she paid for a great
flat wheel of combread, broke it in half, and handed
half to Notz and half to Lul. The famished young-
sters sat down where they were and ate.

Pran, jingling her money, stood in utter satisfac-
tion, watching them. "Good appetite!" said Nik.

While Notz devoured the bread in huge bites Nik
squatted by him talking and asking questions. Pran
helped Lul break off pieces of the loaf. "Eat all you
want," she said, and Lul in silent happiness crunched
the coarse bread.

In a short time most of it was gone. The rest Notz
tied up in a soiled cloth. "To keep," he said.

Nik went close to Pran. "Pran," he whispered,
"'they are without mother or father — home — or any
relative at all." His voice was shocked.

Pran took Lul's hand again, getting a shy, timid
smile of thanks. "You both come with us," she said.

REFUGEE 129

**We are in the Turkish barracks with hundreds of
others, but we still have food and a warm blanket.
Come/'

Without question the two went with them. As they
walked Pran heard Notz tell what beggar life was
like in Skodra streets. *'My father was Llesh Markut
of Gruda," he said once, and straightened himself a
bit. "He was a chief."

The name rang in Pran's head. Where had she
heard that name? Why, Dil — ^yes, Dil had used it —
speaking of home. She looked hard now at Notz and

Lul. Could it be possible ? But she must not

imagine things and raise false hopes. But Llesh — the
son of Mark — and chief — so Dil had told it. Pran's
heart beat faster. She caught up with Notz. "Tell
me, Notz Son-of-Llesh, had you another sister —
older than Lul?''

Notz moved his head sideways for "yes.'' "We
lost her when the village fled," he said.

"What was her name?" Pran watched his lips that
framed the syllable.

"Dil was her name," he said, "but she is gone — ^
whether alive or not, I do not know. I carried Lul — I
could not find her when we rested that first day.
I do not know."

"I know," said Pran and stopped herself. No, she

130 PRAN OF ALBANIA

would say nothing till Dil saw the boy. Excitement
swept her. What if by the merest accident — a crazy
twist of fate — the will of God — she had stumbled on
Dil's family — the lost brother and the baby sister.
Her mind whirled with the possibility. "Hurry," she
called and trotted on ahead. If Dil were home .?

But Dil had not come back from the bazaar. Pran
talked to Notz, asking him a hundred questions of
the burning of his village two years back and of the
flight. "How did your sister look.?"

Nothing he said could dampen her hope com-
pletely. She told herself, "Do not be sure — do not be
sure." But in her heart she was sure, and the hours
before Dil came dragged slowly by. A dozen times
she ran outside the barrack, looking to see if Dil was
on the way.

At last she came. Pran ran to meet her. "Dil —
Dil " She must not tell. She stopped her words.

When Dil came in Notz sat beside a little fire that
Pran had kindled for the supper cooking. Lul was
near him, watching Nik and Gjon playing "Chicken's
Leg" with a piece of string.

Dil said, "Who are these children, Pran?" And
Pran's heart sank. How foolish she had been to hope
so much. "I found them on the street. We fed them.
They are refugees like us, but have no place or

REFUGEE 131

mother or father — no one at all. The boy is Notz.'*

Dil said the name after her, "Notz — and the girl?"
"SheisLul,"saidPran.

Dil greeted Notz. The boy looked up at her. Pran
watched, ready to cry almost for having hoped such
great things and all so uselessly.

But Dil stood staring. Pran looked at her and saw
in her face a look of puzzled unbelief — of fear almost.
**Notz," said Dil again. "Your father's name —
your village?'' Her voice sounded like one asleep.
Notz told them both. Pran saw Dil's face go white.
She took a step toward the boy and placed her hands
on his two shoulders. "Look at me," she said. Pran's
heart leaped up. Oh, kind Mother in Heaven — was
It really true? She watched, spellbound.

Notz looked, and in his face there grew the look
that was in Dil's. "I know you," he said slowly, with
difficulty, and then he threw his arms around Dil's
neck, crying, "Muttra iamia — my sister — my sister!"

Dil spoke in a tense voice, "Where — where is
Marija?" Notz pointed toward little Lul. "She is so
grown you could not know her, Dil. I call her Lul —
my flower. She likes that name. She does not know
her christened name, Marija. Call her — she will
hardly understand."

Dil took the bewildered Lul up in her arms. Crying,

I

132 PRAN OF ALBANIA

she hugged her. "No, she does not know. Tell her,
Notz. She will believe you before me. Tell her I am
her sister, come again."

Pran laughed and cried at once, and Nik and Gjon,
at last able to understand what had happened,
jumped up and shouted, "Rrnoft — rrnoft — hurrahl"
Pran hushed them in high good humor. "Boys,
be still. With such rejoicing, such a calabrek, the
barrack people will think that we have won a victory
— that Kossova is ours again — or that we've taken
Djakova at least." She laughed, delighted beyond
any words at Dil's joy and to see the new brother and
sister sparkling with this happiness that had fallen
from the sky.

"While we are celebrating," said Dil, "your fire
goes out. The pot of beans gets cold. Come, let us
have supper all cooked for Lukja when she comes
and finds her family increased by two."

Pran set more faggots on the fire and pushed the
copper pot of beans against it. "It was all Hana's
doing, Dil," she said. "We went a short cut, and
having the goat to sell I knew that I could get the
children bread. A chance like that — and see what I
have done — unknowing."

Dil sat with Lul in her lap, and Notz beside her,
his hand on her knee. The three faces glowed with

REFUGEE 133

happiness. "Glory to Hana, then," said Dil. "She did
not come all the way from Thethi for nothing."

When Lukja came and heard the great news she
made the two newcomers welcome with a warm
heart and warmer words, but in the darkness of the
barrack that night she sat cross-legged, wondering
how long it would be before her own brood with these
others would have to starve and beg on the same
streets where Notz and Lul had lived their beggar
life. She laid her blanket over the stranger children
and laid herself down beside her own two boys,
feeling a weight of sorrow in her breast.

p

CHAPTER IX

NEWS AND A JOURNEY

RAN thought no more of Hana. She said to
Lul, **You have a sister now. Pran will be
mother to you." And she and Dil shared all their
food with her. Notz made his way, running an errand
when he could in the bazaar, and Pran saw that his
proud grateful spirit made him eat sparingly of all
their food. Even on the meager rations of the barrack
life, both children gained in health of mind and body.
Lul's eyes lost their dumb fear, and she learned how
to laugh and play at games with the other barrack
children.

One day Pran found her in the center of a little
circle of playmates, singing and dancing. "Look,
Dil,'* said Pran, "Lul can really dance. And listen
to the words of that song. I never heard it."

"It is a song of the city," said Notz a little apolo-
getically, "a gypsy song. Once for a while a gypsy
child begged with us, and she taught the dance to
Lul and the song too."

"It is a pretty song," said Pran.

134

NEWS AND A JOURNEY I3S

That night Lul danced for Lukja and the rest
outside the barracks.

Dil said, '* People give pennies sometimes for a
dance. I will take Lul to-morrow to the coffee garden
and let her dance there. The children of Llesh
Markut must do something to help."

The next day the children all went to the coffee
garden and, while a small crowd gathered, Pran and
Dil and the three boys stood round Lul in a circle,
clapping their hands in time and chanting the words
that Lul had taught them and Lul danced to the song.

"Zara, Zara, put on your cap

And all the lovers will sigh for you;
Zara, Zara, put on your cap,

And all the lovers will die for you.

"Zara, Zara, going to school,

With petticoats fair and dainty and white.
Zara, Zara, going to church,

Dressed so gayly in garments bright.

**Zara, Zara, whose child are you.?

Where do you come from and where do
you go.?
Zara, Zara, Fll give you my moccasins
If you will dance on the tip of your toe.

136 PRAN OF ALBANIA

" Dance with your hips and Fll give you my
cartridge belt,
Dance with your shoulders, Fll give you
a chain,
Show us the grace of your arms and your
ankles.
Flutter your fingers more slowly again.

"Zara, Zara, put on your cap.

And all the lovers will sigh for you;
Zara, Zara, put on your cap.
And all the lovers will die for you."

When Lul stopped dancing the men threw her
pennies, and the children gathered them with smiles
and thank-yous. But Notz scowled a little and said
to Fran, "These are gypsy doings and not fit for a
chiefs daughter." Still, he praised Lul, and her small
face shone with happiness. She poured all her pennies
into his hands.

A stoutish man dressed in the red and black of
Skodra stayed near the children after the other men
had gone. He smiled at them and said, "Come,
mountaineers, a lemonade for everyone." Calling
the coffee boy he bought six glasses of lemonade and
handed one to each of the children, "Good be to

NEWS AND A JOURNEY 1 37

you!" "May you find good fortune!" they replied
and squatted about on the ground, sipping luxuri-
ously. This was a treat!

As they drank, the man sat on a chair near them
and asked a great many questions. "Are you ref-
ugees?" "Where do you live?" "What village are
you from?"

Pran being the oldest answered for them all.
"Three are from Prifti, and my brothers and I have
come from Thethi."

The man said earnestly, "You refugees know little
of what goes on. You know the men are fighting north
of here, by Castrati. But you do not know how things
are going — that our men have poor supplies, that
food is low and will be scarcer yet. You big girls, tell
your mothers that I have certain knowledge all your
Thethi men are out there at the border with the rest."

Pran's heart beat hard. "Ndrek — Ndrek!" Lately
she had not let herself think of her father and his
danger. Now she thought, "Can he be there — so near
^perhaps in want?"

She fastened her eyes on the Skodran's face, her
ears intent to catch his next words.

The man leaned nearer, lowering his voice. "Tell
your mother there is need of food. If you have fathers
there, any of you, then sell your clothes or chains or

138 PRAN OF ALBANIA

whatever you have and buy food for them — and take
it to the front. There is need. I have the word this
morning from a runner.'*

Pran's eyes were thoughtful. She said then, "I
have no way to know if he is there — my father."

"Tell me your father's name, then," said the man,
" and when my runner goes again to the front he will
make inquiries for him, search him out, and give him
news of you. And then I will make sure that word gets
back to you of where he is. So you can help him. Wo-
men go often to the men with food ; you know that."

Pran's eyes glowed now. She knew that word went
back and forth like this between the front and
Skodra; and she knew too that wives and daughters
of the fighting men, being women and safe from
danger on the trail, often traveled long distances
carrying food and clothing to the men. She would
tell Lukja. There was still some money left from
Hana's sale, and anyway, they all could go without
a day's food now and then and so get together some-
thing for Ndrek. Lukja would let her go. She was sure
of that.

The boys ran ahead Hke young goats on the long
straight road back to the barracks. She and Dil,
each holding a hand of Lul, walked more slowly be-
hind them, talking of this new thing.

I

NEWS AND A JOURNEY I39

"See, Lul," said Pran, "what luck has come to me
through you. I find you a sister, but through you I
have got word of Ndrek, my father. I may even see
him — and talk to him."

She leaned to hug Lul, who smiled, only half under-
standing. "Nona iamia, "she whispered into Pran's
ear, "my mother."

And Lukja had news that night to match their
own: "God is good, Pran, and to-morrow Skodra's
prefect, the chief of the city, promises to every
refugee a ration of cornmeal and a sack of potatoes.
We will indeed have food for our Ndrek when word
shall come."

A few days later a ragged mountaineer of Castratl
appeared at the door of the barrack asking for
Lukja. He was a dark young man — so young that his
mustache was barely grown; but he bore his rifle
slung on his straight back, and under the worn grimy
clothing could be seen his strong, untiring body.

He sat down by a little fire Lukja had kindled to
make coffee for him. He smoked rank mountain
tobacco from his silver box, and he sat cross-legged,
taking great puffs through a long silver cigarette
holder. "Greetings to Ndrek's wife. Long Hfe," he
said.

The boys squatted with Dil and Lul some distance

140 PRAN OF ALBANIA

off, but Pran came and sat close to her mother that
she might hear.

Lukja's eyes were fixed anxiously on the man's
face. **My man, Ndrek, is well — unhurt?" she asked,
after giving him welcome.

"Well and unhurt," he answered. Pran breathed a
prayer of thanks and saw Lukja's lips move as she
made in gratitude the holy sign of the cross. The man
went on. "Skodra sends food to some, but all the
men from far-off villages fare badly. Fighting goes
on, and hungry men will get the worst of it. To-day
Skodra sends bread — never enough for all, and I
must go as guard with the bread cart. But whether
I arrive there safe or not, no one can tell." He took
out of the fire a burning twig and lit with it an-
other cigarette.

Then, he said, "If you have food, send it for your
man. A woman travels safer, as you know, and
many in the barracks here are from Castrati tribe and
know the land about there. Let your girl ask of the
trails and country. She must go north by hidden ways
— not by the road. They watch the road for spies,
and they stop anyone who goes too near. Even our
own men, fearing a spy's work, let no one pass. But —
«he knows mountain ways" — he looked at Pran, who

NEWS AND A JOURNEY I4I

moved her head for *'yes/' — and she can get through
toNdrek."

With a sharp stick he traced on the ground near
the fire a picture of the men's position. **Here fights
Castrati. Here fight Thethi's men and other men of
Shala. Let her make inquiry from one of the women
here how she shall reach the spot. They will know
better than I, perhaps.''

Lukja with her cornmeal had made exchange for a
handful of coffee. She mixed it now and boiled it at
the fire and poured it out into a tiny can, for cups
were scarce. "Drink and refresh yourself. And glory
to the mouth that brings me news of my husband.
Glory to the feet that brought you here. Good
fortune, then!" She gave the cup to him.

The man thanked her and made the wish for her
own good luck and drank in tiny sips, his eyes fixed
on the dying ashes of the little fire.

Pran whispered with Lukja.

The cup empty, the young man rose and said
good-bye. **I have much business here before I go
back," he said. **Good luck to you, girl, and blessings
on you."

"A smooth trail be yours," said Pran.

"Smooth peace/' He smiled and left.

1^2 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran turned to Lukja. "To-day, Nona?" she
asked, bursting with eagerness to be on her way to
Ndrek.

"To-day you must talk with some of the Castrati
women here,*' said Lukja. "Get in your head the
secret way to the north. I will make the food ready.
At the dawn you shall start. Better alone, though
Dil can walk with you across the plain.*'

All afternoon Pran talked with several of the
Castrati women. They sat outside the barracks in
the shadow of the wall sheltered from the fierce sun,
and there Pran drew on the sandy earth, as the
messenger had done, tracings of the men's position
and the path there as the women told it to her. She
planned her journey. It would take a day.

That night she slept lightly and woke a dozen
times, sure dawn had come.

At last it came.

Her mother had a small sack of potatoes saved
from the city's distribution to the refugees, and an-
other smaller bag of cornmeal. With money from the
sale of the goat she had bought dried salted fish, and
these she had tied fast in a strong cloth. With skillful
hands she fastened all the load onto Pran's back.

Gjon, waking, came and kissed her, saying, "Be
careful, sister, I have heard that the Slavs' bullets

NEWS AND A JOURNEY I43

cannot tell women from men." His eyes were big and
serious.

Pran laughed. **Trust to my own sense, Gjon,"
she answered him. ''I do not go seeking bullets,
but Ndrek, our father. I shall be safe, no fear."

Nik sat up sleepily and rubbed his eyes. "Go on a
smooth trail, muttra iamia," he said, "and tell Ndrek
to send for me if he needs a strong fighter at his
side."

Notz waked and wished her luck with a grave face.
Older than the twins and taught by his hard life, he
dreaded Pran's going, and his brown eyes were anx-
ious. Dil was ready at Pran's side. Only Lul slept,
curled in a little heap under her brother's blanket.
Pran knelt down and kissed her softly. "Farewell,
my little sparrow," she whispered, and then she said
to Dil, "You have the care of her alone now. Give
her my food and finish the purple socks I told her
should be done to-day."

Dil promised. Then with last good-byes and wishes
for the trail the two girls started off across the plain.

At first they walked in silence. Daylight spread
slowly across the sky, and the sun rose over the
mountain wall beyond the plain.

At length Dil spoke. "You are not afraid, Pran?"

"Afraid?" said Pran.

144 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Dil's eyes met hers. "You will go close to where the
fighting is."

**Ndrek goes closer/* Pran answered gravely,
turning away her eyes.

Dil touched her arm. ** I cannot go all the way with
you, my sister," she said, "but my prayers will go
with you." She stopped and then went on more
softly: "Come back safe, Pran," she said, and Pran
saw tears stand in her eyes and heard the half sob
that choked her.

Why should Dil fear for her? She did not fear. No
thought of fear had come to her. She went to see
Ndrek, her father — after so long — to see him — and
take him food — and comfort him with news of those
he loved. She was too glad — there was no room in
her for fear. Happily she trod the level way, her back
straight under her burden, and her heart strangely
at peace and Hfted above itself.

She stroked DiFs hand that lay so lightly on her
arm, and smiled into her friend's blue eyes that swam
with unshed tears. "Have no grain of fear for me,
Dil. I shall be safe." Her own heart felt the certainty
of this.

At the plain's edge Dil wished her smooth going
and stood to watch her go. Pran waved and looked
back at her, standing there. "Smooth peace!" she

NEWS AND A JOURNEY I45

called and took the mountain way. The hill's spur
shut Dil and the plain from sight. She was alone.

The sun was high now, and the trail was hot, but
Pran felt no discomfort. To feel under her feet again
the stony path, to walk so freely under the wide blue
sky, to see about her valleys and hills once more,
after the close life of the Skodra barracks — this was
delight. Each slope was pleasure to her hard moun-
tain muscles, each height she climbed gave her new
happiness. She journeyed fast, watching the way she
went, remembering the turnings and the short cuts
she had been told to take.

She met no one. At noon she ate her combread
as she walked, not stopping for a rest. The way was
long. Before night fell she wanted to be sure to reach
the border and the camping place. Her father! He
was well, the man had said. "Well and unhurt."
Brave Ndrek! He could fight well. Like every moun-
tain man, he knew the value of ambush. No one
more clever than Ndrek to find low rocks to shoot
from and the wooded shelters that kept a man hidden
from his foe's eyes. What would he say, seeing her
come so far with food to keep up his strength and
courage.? She wondered if he had the bear's tooth
still. Of course he had. Was he not safe and unhurt
because he carried it i She hummed a mountain tune.

146 PRAN OF ALBANIA

With men like Ndrek war could not last long. No
enemy could down such men. She knew, as did every
mountain boy and girl, that these undaunted North-
ern mountaineers had held their hills from time im-
memorial. Had not even Turkey itself failed to collect
an atom of tribute from them.? They had been free
men always and would be forever — unconquered and
unconquerable, the Maltsors, Sons of the Mountain
Eagle! Pran's heart leaped with her thoughts, and
she could not refrain from singing to herself LuFs
dancing song — a foolish song, but there was a gay-
ness in it that suited her mood just now.

The summer afternoon passed slowly over her.
Still she went on, turning always more to the west.
Then, seeing the valley of Castrati lie at her feet,
she took the winding trail down from the hills. Soon
she had reached the spot where the messenger had
said the men would be encamped. She looked about
her. Clumped low woods and little clear spaces of
grass, with here and there heaped ashes of dead
fires. No one at all in sight. Could it be here? She took
a few steps farther — stopped, uncertain.

Suddenly four mountaineers confronted her, their
rifles in their hands. Pran started, for she could have
sworn a second since she was alone, and now these
four solid men of flesh and blood seemed to have

NEWS AND A JOURNEY I47

Sprung like apparitions out of the ground she stood
on. Her heart beat a tattoo, though she could see
they were Albania's men and Maltsor besides.

They spoke, ''Greetings. Long Hfe!" One said,
"What errand brings you, girl?''

Pran answered, feeling at once their friendliness,
"To you long life, uprisers and defenders of the hills.
I seek Ndrek, the son of Palok Daka, a Shala man of
Thethi village. I have brought food for him. Where
can I find him.?"

One of the men stepped forward, gave a low whis-
tle, and it seemed to Pran that every bush and stone
became alive, and where before no sign of men had
been, men stood in groups — miraculously — talking
together as if they had talked for hours, standing just
there.

"Come — " the man nearest her motioned her to
h'lm — 'I'll lead you to Ndrek/'

She followed, with difficulty, for the man went
fast, and though he took no path he went as if sure of
his way, leaping lightly from stone to stone and over
gullies, finding a footing where Pran nearly fell. Now
she could see through the bushes here and there
smoke of small fires. They passed a great heaped pile
of potatoes lying on the grass. She went close to a
fire over which an iron pot bubbled and boiled while

148 PRAN OF ALBANIA

men squatted and stood about it. Her guide went on.
He wound and turned, and still went on, unspeaking,
steadily. Pran followed close, thinking, "I can never
find my way back again, that's sure."

Suddenly she saw they were alone, no sign of men
or fires. The mountaineer stopped and pointed to a
wooded knoll. "Behind there are encamped the
Shala men. Climb and go down. You'll find the man
you seek among them. Go on a smooth trail."

"Thank you. Peace go with you," said Pran. The
man was gone. She hurried now. How near she was at
last! Another moment and she would stand before
Ndrek himself. Her heart beat less with climbing
than with joy. She pushed through the thick brush
and little trees covering the knoll and took the steep
down slope, her feet slipping at every step. She
reached the little hollow at the foot.

No one? Yes — there were men. Yes— there — there
was Ndrek! She ran.

He stood with other men about a fire. His back
was toward her. "Father!" she called, but softly, for
she felt the secretness of the place.

He turned, gave one startled look — knew her, and
took her in his arms. "My Pran — my daughter —
brave darling. You have come — you have come!"

Why was she crying? What a foolish thing, to cry

NEWS AND A JOURNEY I49

before soldiers. Furious at herself she turned her
back and scrubbed her tears off with her sleeve. And
then she turned again and stood close to Ndrek, too
happy for any words. What was he saying? Asking
after the boys and Lukja.

"They are all right," she said, glad that her voice
was steady as she spoke. "We live not badly there in
Skodra. We have food. Scores of the refugees have
less than we. We have not suffered — yet. God has
protected us as He has you.'' She pressed Ndrek's
hand to her forehead — to her mouth. " I thank Him
from my heart."

Ndrek signed himself with the cross. "I thank
Him too." He looked now at the bundle on her back
and smiled. "What have you brought, then? Food for
the whole army that you are loaded so?" He laughed,
and his eyes sparkled in the old way she knew. But
she could see that he was thinner, that his clothes
were worn, and that about his mouth were stern new
lines carved there by hardship and distress.

"I have brought something for you to eat. They
say in Skodra that the Slavs find hungry men too
easy prey." She smiled and unslung her load, letting
the two sacks and the packet of fish fall at Ndrek's
feet.

"Rrnoft!" cried Ndrek. "Glory to your strong

ISO PRAN OF ALBANIA

back and never-erring feet. God bless you, daughter.
My courage lights itself anew from the flame of
yours, even as my body takes strength from the food
you bring." He dragged the bags farther from the
fire and sat down cross-legged before them, pulling
at their openings, peering within. "Good store,"
he said, "I shall use it carefully." Then, quickly anx-
ious, "You in Skodra will not go hungry now, bring-
ing so much to me.^"

Pran tossed back an emphatic head, cUcking her
tongue. **Yo, never," she said.

Ndrek unwrapped the fish and gave one of them to
Pran. "Eat, and good appetite. You have come far."
He took one for himself.

The two sat there side by side in the dusk and ate.
Ndrek told Pran how things were going in the border
war. "Sometimes our men drive back the Slavs, and
sometimes we have to give ground and let them
farther in." He frowned. "Things are not settled yet.
There runs a rumor now the Slavs are massing some-
where for a big attack — they would surprise us. It is
three days and more since we have had fighting of
any kind. We are all glad of the rest, but anxious —
not knowing what they plan — where they will strike.
We wait — and, being Maltsor, you know how hard
that is. Fighting is better."

NEWS AND A JOURNEY ISI

**Po, bessa," agreed Pran.

Darkness fell as they talked. At last Ndrek said,
"Other women have come with food to-day. Go
where they are and sleep. Start home to-morrow.
God speed you safely — He has led you here. Go
warily — until you are on the trail. You know enough
for that." He laid a hand on Fran's shoulder. *'I
cannot be sure of seeing you again, so I will give you
farewell to-night and blessings for your journey.
Take word to Nik I do not need him yet. And tell
our Gjon — he's older than his twin by the space of
time it takes to boil a jasme of water, so he's the head
of the house — tell him he is the head while I am gone,
and that he must guard his family as I would from
all danger. And tell Lukja" — he paused — "tell her if
it be the will of Zot i Madhe" — he smiled — "and if
your bear's tooth works its charm, tell her I shall
come home. If luck should favor us — our men fight
well — there's hope we may be home before the rains.
May the sweet Virgin look on you with love, my girl,
and keep you on the trail so that you reach Skodra
by dark to-morrow. Go a smooth way."

They rose. Pran bowed her head. He touched it
tenderly. "Peace be with you, my father."

He kissed her cheek. "Now go, bearer of comfort
for the weary, go. Long life."

152 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"Long life to you, Ndrek." She meant those words.

He said, "You will find the other women to the
east over the southern slope of the knoll. They too
wait for the dawn. Good-night."

"Good-night." She left him, taking an unsure way
through the young dark lit by casual fires. Sad-
ness and joy together filled her heart. She left him
to live in danger, but she had brought succor to him,
and had seen and talked with him, and could take
back to Lukja and the boys his words — his love.

She found six or eight women from as many tribes
where he had said. The night was warm. They slept
under the stars together peacefully. No shot was
heard. Only a faint wind blew, stirring the leaves.

"Perhaps they have done with fighting," mur-
mured Pran to her she slept beside.

"You speak so, being young," the woman said.
"When you are older you will learn that echo of a
shot lasts longer than the bullet's flight. Sleep
easily."

A

CHAPTER X

PRAN LISTENS

T DAWN Pran started back. One of the women

walked with her for a while. The others slept or
had gone earHer. At first Pran knew the way, but
after she was alone it did not seem so clear. She took
a doubtful turn, and then another she felt surer of,
went a long way — was she right, after all.? She
thought she recognized a group of big stones and
went on, confident. Where were the camp fires?
Another turn — confusion. Where was she? The sun,
scarce risen yet, was little help to her. She knew to
go too far the wrong way would be dangerous, take
her too near enemy land. She entered thicker woods,
and then a field. She went through bushes where she
had to fight her way with effort. This was not right.
She turned in the midst of them. Their thorns caught
at her. Her heart beat too fast. How foolish to get
lost!

Voices sounded. Someone was near, some of the
men, maybe. She went that way. It all looked

IS3

154 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Strange. Now the talking, though low, was nearer.
She could hear words — strange words. They were not
words she knew. She stopped and listened. Yes, here

and there she recognized a word, but Suddenly

Dil's face flashed before her mind's eye — Dil — who
had taught her words like these outside the barrack
wall — Slav words! This talk was Slavic talk. Her
heart came to a full stop, leaped — choking her. A
tremor ran through her body. What did it mean.^ —
the Slavs as near as this! The truth burst on her. She
had gone too far — over the border — or onto disputed
land.

Her breath came fast. What if these men took just
a few steps her way — and found her.'' Again she
seemed to see Dil's face, and this time it was wet
with tears, and she could hear again Dil's voice,
telling of fearful things — the sack and burning of the
Gruda village — slaughter and cruelty. And these men
that spoke so near her, they were Slavs, the age-old
enemies of her people, the very men that had sent
Dil and all her village fleeing before them. For the
first time fear entered in Pran's heart and smouldered
like an evil thing under her racing thoughts.

She must not stay. Another second now and she
would be discovered standing like a stupid sheep
waiting the knife. Even as she hesitated, uncertain

PRAN LISTENS 1 55

where to turn for safety, the voices of the men came
nearer. Their footsteps sounded close.

Pran looked in fresh terror round her. Where to
hide? Where? — Where? — before it was too late? She
ran with soft, fearful steps. A great rock loomed —
under it darkness. Yes, a cave was there — God
watched her surely. She breathed a prayer of thanks.
She would hide there until they had passed — at least.
She ran inside — and back into the blackness. How
huge it was! She did not even stoop. The great roof
arched above her, indiscernible. It was damp, too;
she could feel under her rawhide moccasins the soft
mud mingled with stones. She slipped — steadied her-
self, and went still farther in. Black dark before her.
Suddenly she splashed into water. Before she could
stop she was in it — to her knees — stumbled, but
stood. Heaven! — this was far enough for safety. She
could feel the cold wet well above her knees. Breath-
less, her heart hammering hard against her side,
she turned to face the entrance, where dim light
showed. Here she was safe. She strained her ears, listen-
ing for the steps. The cave, like a great ear, enlarged
the sound of them. The shadowy figures of two men
showed at the entrance. She could see them move in-
side a bit, as though to hide. She prayed they would
not come farther. Through the dark she heard again

IS6 PRAN OF ALBANIA

their voices, made out the words — strange words of
the language Dil had taught her — the Slav tongue.

How long would they stay there? How long could
she stand like this undiscovered ? She must not move.
A splash or any sound would betray her. The water
round her knees was cold — spring water. She had
heard of springs like this, that rose under the ground
and flowed into ground holes, emptying themselves
under the earth.

The voices sounded louder. The two men argued
with each other, it seemed. Then a third figure
showed, a third voice broke in. Nothing to do but
wait till they had done and gone away. What was it
all about? Why did the three talk secretly in here?
Spies, perhaps. The sense of what they said was
difficult to get, for many of the words she had not
learned from Dil nor ever heard before. What were
they saying? If she could only follow! Suddenly she
caught a word she knew — "to-day'' — and then the
very word her own folk used for rifles and fighting.
They talked about the war — no doubt of that — but
what? Could it be plans they spoke of? She must hear
what they said. It might be something of importance
— something her troops should know — her troops —
the mountaineers that waited, as Ndrek said, three
days now, fearing a surprise. She strained her ears.

PRAN LISTENS 1 57

If only she could make some sense of it — make
something sure — past doubt.

She listened. The third man did not speak as did
the other two. His accent was not the same, and now
and then he broke into her own tongue — Albanian.
He — yes, she was sure — she heard the words — he was
a mountaineer, Albanian, who talked as traitors talk,
to help his country's enemies. His broken Slavic,
more like that Dil had taught her, was not so hard
to understand, and he spoke slowly. She could follow
now. It was a plan — the plan — that Ndrek and the
others longed to know.

"At noon to-day" — and the names of two places.
Yes, she understood. The Slavs were getting ready
for an attack to-day, and planned to strike at the
mountaineers from two points of vantage — the
Gulch of the Fig Tree, and Gur-i-zi — the Black Rock.
She would remember those two names if ever she got
out of here alive and found safe way back to Ndrek
and the men. She held her breath, anxious to catch
each word.

The traitor told where the Albanians camped and
how to surprise them coming from two sides. He said,
"They are glad of rest. At noon, when the heat is
most intense, they sleep, many of them.'' The other
men asked questions. "Had the men food enough?-^

158 PRAN OF ALBANIA

and ammunition?" Sometimes, to make the other
understand, they used Albanian words, minghng the
languages and making their talk for Pran even more
intelligible. It was all clear in her mind now. If only
they would go !

Things settled, the men talked of other matters.
'*Vm thirsty," said one. Another answered, '* Farther
back in the cave the water is good for drinking."
Pran's heart stood still. What if they should come too
close and see her? That would be the end — and all
her listening of no avail — and she? The man's steps
neared. Pran stood a statue there. If only she had had
on a woman's dark clothing, not the girl's white that
she wore. A terror mounted in her as she heard the
man's feet splash in the shallow water. She shut her
eyes and prayed. This was the end. A thousand
images chased themselves through her head — Lukja
— the boys — and Ndrek — the house in Thethi — they
passed like visions before her shut eyes. She saw a
face — Nush's face — she saw again the signal fires
they had watched together. His voice sounded in her
ears — "You have my necklace. It will protect you.
Each bear's tooth is a spear to guard you." "A spear
to guard you!" Pran's breath caught; her hand vrent
to her throat, where the chain always hung. Her
fingers clutched it. She felt the ivory points wound-

PRAN LISTENS 159

ing her flesh; she clutched them tighter yet. "A spear
to guard you!" It would guard her now. Her terror
ebbed. She heard the man's feet stop. By the sound
she knew he crouched and cupped his hand to raise
the water to his lips. He was drinking now. She
opened her eyes to see his dark figure, outlined against
the cave door, stand upright — and turn — and then
go back. She was saved — she was safe! The charm
that Nush had given her had worked, had guarded
her. As bullets glance from the stone kula's wall, so
peril had glanced from her, armored as she was by
this talisman. Tears of relief and thankfulness stood
in her eyes. She would fear nothing now.

The men went out. Their steps died instantly, but
Pran, dreading a return or some newcomer, stood
motionless, waiting. Should she go now? There was
no time to lose. Knowledge such as this must find its
way at once to the tribal chiefs. And she felt no
assurance she could find the way back to the men;
though now the sun, being higher, would help her.
Yes, she must go — must chance it.

Slowly she moved, almost without a sound,
through the shallowing water toward the cave's
opening. Softly she stepped, her ears alert to catch
the sHghtest noise outside. At the door she paused,
peering out into the sunlit world. No one in sight.

l6o PRAN OF ALBANIA

No sound. Now — to be gone? Which way? She saw
the thicket where she had first stood and heard the
men. She made her way toward that. The sun cast
clear shadows northward. She stood still in the
bushes, wondering what way to take now. Then she
put her hand on the bear's-tooth necklace, holding
it lightly. It had helped her once. Why could it not
help again? "Guide me," she whispered. She walked
now, looking neither to left nor right, unthinking,
giving her feet the way, murmuring to herself, "I
shall get back. Guide me — I shall get back." She
walked unfaltering a long way, it seemed; then
stopped, hearing a woman's voice speaking her
own tongue. Her heart leaped up.

"Sister," she called, *'come here. I am lost."

The woman came; laughed at Pran's serious face.
"Do not be anxious. You are safe here, girl. The
enemy dares not come as far as this," she assured her.

"He dares come far enough," said Pran, unsmiling.
"Where are the men?"

The woman led her easily back to the camp. Pran
walked hurriedly among the groups of men who
crouched and sat about their breakfast fires un-
noticing. She reached the hollow where Ndrek had
been the night before. He was not there. What should
she do? Tell someone else? Suppose they should not

PRAN LISTENS l6l

believe her, or laugh at the story, calling it a dream?
She must not risk that. It was the chief who should
know. She must find where the leaders were and tell
them. She made inquiry of one of the men. He an-
swered without question. Here stranger things hapn
pened than the mere asking of an anxious girl for a
mountain chief. The man led her then across some
level fields and behind a small hill to where a tall man
stood talking with two others. "He is the chief of
Castrati," said her guide and left her.

Pran stood near the group, waiting. At last the tall
man turned to her. Under his heavy eyebrows shone
two keen blue eyes. His flowing mustache was Hghter
than those of his two companions and tinged with red.
His voice was friendly, courteous. "What is it, girl?
Whom do you seek here?"

"I seek the chief. I have news — news of the Slavs
and what they plan against us."

The chief showed no surprise. His information
came by a thousand devious channels, some more
unHkely and less trustworthy than words of a clear-
eyed, serious young girl. He motioned Pran to follow
him a little distance from the other men. He fixed his
eyes intently on Pran's eyes. "Tell me," he said.

She began her story. When she described the cave
he said, "I know the place well. It has been rendez-

l62 PRAN OF ALBANIA

vous before for spies and traitors. It lies in our land,
yet now not in our land, but close. They dare to
come so near, being too confident. The Maltsor
you heard talk with them fights Ukely as not with us.
Too bad you cannot tell me of his looks and costume.
Vermin like him we should be well rid of." The chief
patted his rifle barrel. "IVe a bullet here for him if
ever I find him out." He smiled a little. '*Go on," he
said.

Pran told how she had listened and at last made
out the words. "First, when I heard it in the other
tongue," she told him, "I was not sure, but when
the traitor talked he used much of our language, and
besides, he repeated what he said a dozen times so
that those two should understand. Then I was sure —
sure of the places and the names; the time was noon,
the places, the Fig Tree Gulch and Gur-i-zi. You
know where they are.?"

"So they are named with us," answered the chief.
He asked a few more questions of her and then said,
"It is all clear. The shadows must get no shorter.
The men must start." He called the two men to him
and talked rapidly with them in low tones. They left
at a trot. The chief turned back to Pran.

"I will go," she said.

"What is your name.f*" he asked.

PRAN LISTENS 163

She told him.

"Pran, Daughter-of-Ndrek, you have done well.
To-day you have done good service to your moun-
tain land. The knowledge you have brought will save
more lives than there are leaves on that young tree
behind you. Besides, if all goes well, as it must go
since we prepare in time, you save your people from
defeat, from vanquishment, from tyranny and death.
For once these Slavs gain foothold they take root.
And you have heard what justice is with them. Hoti
and Gruda know from years of sorrow. Castrati
does not want to know. And if Castrati goes under
the Slavic heel, who shall save Skodra, and our
mountain villages east and south? Our men stand
now at the door of Albania — the door to her very
heart. We hold the key — as yet. To-day, had you not
listened bravely and so well, we might have lost
that key, and losing that we should have lost the
power to hold the door. Which now we shall hold —
glory to your ears!'' The chiefs eyes flashed, then
softened. "Take word from me to the man, Ndrek.
Tell him that he is father to as brave and true a
heart as ever beat in all the Eagle's Land. God in his
goodness bless and protect you, always, Pran of
Thethi. I, Marash Vata, Chief of all Castrati,
in my tribe's name and in the name of all the

164 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Maltsors give you my thanks. Shum falemi nderes,
shum, shum. Farewell, go smoothly. Long life to
you!

Pran bowed her head, her heart too full for speech.
The chief called a young runner. "Take this girl to
where the safe trail lies to the east. She is for Skodra."

''Smooth peace upon you," answered Pran and
followed the guide away.

Already as she went word flew from one group of
waiting men to the next. She could see the ragged
marching lines starting away in wandering irregular
formation, going steadily toward the two danger
spots.

Would they be in time.^ And if they were, could
they repulse the Slavs ? How could she go, not know-
ing ? Such a fight as this might turn the fortune of the
war itself. Had not the chief implied as much in talk-
ing with her.f' She would not go back — not till she
knew the outcome. And she would wait now and see
Ndrek and say good-bye once more. She called the
guide. 'Til go no farther. You can leave me here."
He went away. Pran climbed a little knoll on the clear
way the men must pass going north. Here she would
wait.

She watched the men troop by. They all went fast,
arj eagerness in step and bearing. Three days of quiet

PRAN LISTENS 165

and anxiety; now at last action and certainty. No
wonder they went gladly. To what? For a moment
Pran's heart misgave her. What was this she had
done.? Sent them, with rifles ready, to a place where
danger surely waited — maybe death. "But better
this," she thought, "than surprise — and massacre."
At least they went prepared.

She watched the straight, tall figures trooping by.
She scanned the ranks for Ndrek. There he was — at
last!

He saw her, stepped aside. "You have not gone?"

"I lost my way close to the enemy lines. I heard
men talk of this attack that you go now to stop. I
told the chief, Marash Vata."

"You!" said Ndrek.

But Pran had no reply for the look of wonder and
dawning pride that filled his eyes. Only she thought
of him and how he went now to the battle she had
sent him to.

Doubt swept her soul again. "I meant to do right,
Ndrek."

"You did right, Pran."

"Good-bye, my father."

"Good-bye, my daughter," he answered her and
held her for a moment by the shoulders. She felt his
two strong hands, fiercely tender in this strange

1 66 PRAN OF ALBANIA

farewell, where all these passing men forbade that
he should clasp and kiss her.

He left her then to follow after the rest.

Still the men came, but there were fewer now.
Soon they would all go and leave her here to wait
alone. She sat cross-legged on the little hill unseen
by those that passed. At length no more came by.
She was alone.

Here she would wait, wait until she could learn
whether Albania had kept the door — whether Ndrek
would come safe through this danger and violence
she had sent him to. She did not eat. She did not
think of food. She sat there in the soft grass and
leaned her head against a little tree. A long, long time
she sat this way, unmoving.

The sun had passed noon when the rifles started.
She could hear their crackling easily from here.
Words of an old song came to her, a song some of the
refugees had sung by the barrack fires at night.

**What is this thunder borne on the wind.?
Rugove and Ipek are fighting."

Now for the first time she heard that thunder,
knew what the song's words meant.

For a while there was a fury in the sound, and then
it stilled. Then came crackings of single shots and

PRAN LISTENS l6^

then a hundred shots together. Men — her men —
firing at the foe. But some of these sounds were
sounds of Slavic rifles — bullets that sped this way —
into the midst of the straight, fearless men she had
seen march out only a short while back.

Suddenly her heart rose in her throat to choke her.
Tears started back of her eyes. What if Ndrek should
stop one of those singing things .f* What if her bear's-
tooth talisman should not avail to save him at the
last?

Sitting there alone in the green world of leaves and
grass Pran listened despairingly, dropping her head
down on her raised arms, and then, as the sound rose
to a loud roaring, she raised two hands and stopped
her ears with them — clenched fists to keep out the
sound of this flying cruelty and death — so far away
from her and yet so near to every one of those she had
seen go by — and to Ndrek — Ndrek — Ndrek!

Hours she sat so, motionless — thinking no
thoughts, feeling within her heart a surge of dread,
a hatred of this violent thing safety seemed built
on, laws seemed bastioned with — and men must die
of. This they had fled from, she and the boys and
Lukja, and all Thethi, moving sadly from cold
hearths. This they had sent their men to dauntlessly.
''For liberty let me die!" the song had said.

l68 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Now at last tears came. Her hands relaxed. She let
herself fall face forward on the grass, pressing her
body there, sobbing as children sob. The song rang
through her. "For liberty let me die!" Liberty — must
liberty come so ? At such a price ^ Could not free men
live and keep their lands without this fire and death ?
Ndrek— Ndrek— Ndrek!

The guns had stopped. She had no way to know
what had befallen — ^who had won advantage from
disaster at the end. Would they come back — her
men — or not come back? Ndrek — Ndrek — Ndrek!

The sunlight faded slowly. A faint breeze blew,
cooling the day's fierce heat. Voices and footsteps
sounded, rousing her, pulling her back out of this
misery engulfing all of her. Pran sat up, wiping her
face clean of its tears. If they came back they must
not know one of their women cried. If this was the
enemy marching triumphant through the broken
door — ^well, let them come — and find her. Better so.
She stood to see, her heart throbbing in great slow
beats. She felt no fear.

And then she saw who came; the ragged mountain-
eers, bearing their guns! And as she watched they
gave a cheer — "Rrnoft!" The breeze swept the shout
on. A hundred voices answered, and a hundred more.
They had won!

PRAN LISTENS 169

Joy beat in Pran, but joy could not drive out
sorrow. For she saw that, though some walked, others
were carried. Words of a mountain song came to her
— song of Castrati — ** Slain is Zef Lanula. Zef
Lanula — cry for woe!'* Would Ndrek come, or would
he too be borne between two men.? "Slain is Zef
Lanula. Zef Lanula — cry for woe!'* She waited,
moving closer to the passing crowd of mountaineers.
Some called a greeting to her. At last — a voice she
knew! Not Ndrek's. Whose.? Her eyes searched.
Between two comrades, half supported by them, a
young boy went. She knew his face. **Nush — Nush!'*
the name burst from her. Nush it was — pale — ^with
a tight cloth band about his shoulder, a cloth that
reddened even as she looked. Nush — ^wounded! He
passed, lost in the crowding men.

Pran felt a trembling through her — put a hand out
to clutch a tree near by. Now it came clearly, for
what she had wept so bitterly that afternoon; for
waste like this — waste of good lives — a life like
Ndrek's— like Nush's. "So life is," Lukja had said.
Again there came the thought — "Must it be so.?"
Must this be that she witnessed now.? Could not
quarrels find settlement another way, sparing these
lives, now threatened, or lost, perhaps.? Where was
Ndrek?

170 PRAN OF ALBANIA

With the last men he came — unscathed! Pran
caught his hand — kissed it as he passed. His eyes
answered her eyes, but he had no strength to smile.
" Bless you, my daughter. I am tired, tired. Go home
now, Pran. Tell them we are safe, and you in Skodra
safer than ever. Go.'*

Next day Pran took the long trail back to the town.
Her head was too full of thoughts for thinking. In
her heart sat happiness and sorrow side by side.

As she walked her mind cleared, and Lukja's words
came back, mocking her: **So life is.'' How could life
change? She could not change it. What could a
woman do.^* Nothing — until when she was old her
words would matter at the council circle. She would
gain that some day. Old age and deference to wisdom
lived. Then she would talk against this thing called
war and urge her men to find a better path to end old
quarrels, never settled so. "I am so young,'' thought
Pran. "Age is far off. No one will listen now."

As she had heard the voices in the cave, not near
yet audible, so now she seemed to hear within herself
voices that spoke to her. "What will you do, Pran.?"
And herself answered herself, "I will raise strong
sons and fill their heads with thoughts of a new Hfe
where war is not, where men can meet their enemies
and talk, and barter even, for a peace, for boundaries,

PRAN LISTENS I7I

and for gain — whatever they are after. I have seen a
council of two warring families sit in a circle in a clear
green field and settle a dispute without the shedding
of a drop of blood. They paid with money. Money
costs less than lives. I know — I know. FU teach my
sons to know."

Her thoughts went back to Nush. Was he much
hurt? After his wound perhaps he'd understand these
thoughts of hers. She'd tell him when they met. Be-
ing a man, why should he not feel more keenly than
herself the evil of this violence? For what was
gained to-day? A victory? How long did victory
last? How did they know but what in two years'
time, or more, or less, the Slavs would try the
door again and fight their way in? They were safe
now — she and her people — but war made nothing safe
for long. Wars bred more wars. The thing was clear
as day.

Thoughts crowded. Long afterward, when she
looked back on this home journey, she could re-
member nothing of the way, only this fervor of re-
solve in her to stand against this thing that set man
against man, and uselessly at last.

Seeing the barracks He beyond the plain that eve-
ning as dark fell she took the down trail, with a
strange sense that she left a new world for the old.

172 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Descended — that was it — out of the world that could
be, yet was not.

And she was faint with eating no food so long.
Slowly she went across the plain, half in a dream. She
stood in the barrack doorway, seeing in the darkness
there Lukja and the children like shadows — unreal —
impalpable.

"Pran! Pran!" Their voices faded in her ears.
They themselves grew dim before her. Her eyes
closed. Lukja caught her as she fell.

CHAPTER XI

BACK TO THETHI

THE news Pran had carried found its way through
Skodra rapidly. Runners had come, and now all
Skodra knew the war was done or would be in a
ivreek's time.

Those who were able — had enough to eat — ^went
back to their spoiled villages, but most of the refugees
stayed on in the city. The men, once the guarding of
the border was done, drifted in to Skodra, and many
found their families and lived with them.

Ndrek came back at last and took up his life with
Lukja and the rest in the barracks. Sometimes he
found work. Sometimes he could find nothing to do
and sat smoking in the shade of the barrack wall
with other men. They all waited for spring to come
before planning to go back, for there was no harvest
to gather, and the winter rains could be borne better
on the scant rations of Skodra than in the mountains.

The city prefect still gave food now and then, so
no one really starved, though all went hungry. Seed

172

174 PRAN OF ALBANIA

corn was promised for the spring, and the Franciscan
friars stationed in some of the mountain villages
helped too, and gave corn for the spring planting
where they could. Ndrek journeyed once or twice to
Shala to make arrangements for getting new animals
— a very few — to be paid for in a year with the herd's
increase.

It was a sad winter for all of them. Only Pran kept
up her spirits. She rejoiced over Ndrek's being with
them, over the war's being done. Somehow, hungry
and miserable as she often was, she could not feel sad.
Only one thing bothered her; had Nush got well of
his wound .^ And where was he now? She had no way
to find out these things, and they would lie at the
back of her mind, nibbling at her peace. She some^
times looked for Nush in the bazaar, even walked out
on the road where they had gone together, but he was
nowhere. "I am looking for a grain of sand in a bag
of cornmeal," she told herself. "I will forget him."
But often when the nights were too cold for sleep she
would lie thinking, and his face would rise vividly
before her in the dark, a laughing face with inscruta-
ble blue-gray eyes.

The rains came and drenched everything, though
the dry air made short work of the moisture after-
ward. Ndrek did his best to fix a roofing over their

BACK TO THETHI I75

corner, with tin and bits of broken tiling he picked
up. The boys gathered wood for the fire which had to
be kindled more often as the weather grew colder.
Dil and Pran went off across the Kiri and brought
back great loads of faggots for fuel. For a long
time Lul suffered from the fever and lay gray faced
and haggard eyed under Notz^s blanket, day and
night.

The girls joined Lukja in the porter's work and
looked always for customers for their brooms. Some-
how they struggled through the long wet months.
Then at the first change of weather they got ready
for the journey back to Thethi. The sun shone, the
sky was clear, and summer heat was still two months
away. All hearts were light, and Pran's heart lightest
of all.

She said to Dil, "I have seen enough of the bazaar
to last me all my life. Once I am in the mountains,
there I will stay. Nothing shall budge me."

Dil did not smile. She and Notz and Lul sat watch-
ing Lukja and Pran roll up the blankets for the jour-
ney back.

Lukja looked up at them. "Why do you three sit
there?" she said. "Get yourselves ready too."

Dil answered, "But you forget. Prifti is still full
of Slavs. We must stay here."

176 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran, who had not thought of losing her new-found
friends, looked now at Ndrek, who was standing
near the wall. "Hear what Dil says, Ndrek," she
said to her father.

"I hear," said Ndrek, "but she does not know that
never yet was guest turned out of Ndrek Palokit's
house." He went over to where the three children
sat cross-legged on the ground. "You three have
been with us during the thin times of need and
sorrow; think you, now that fatter days are coming,
we turn you away to starve and beg in Skodra?"

Notz and Lul kept their eyes fixed on him, but Dil
turned hers away as though in shame. "We have
eaten much of your scarce food," she said softlv.
"For months now we have accepted everything rrom
you. You go back to ruins, maybe, and the seed takes
long to sprout. We should be but three extra mouths
to feed."

"Not so," Lukja broke in. "At Thethi there will
be too much to do for Pran and me alone. We need
your help. Having had two big daughters for so long,
I cannot do with one. And Notz — he is much bigger
than our boys. Ndrek can make good use of his strong
back and arms in the neglected fields. As for our Lul
— she cannot stay behind, for Pran is mother to her.
Children stay with their mothers always." She

BACK TO THETHI 1 77

smiled at LuFs sad little face. "See," she said, "her
eyes are big with tears, thinking her mother planned
to go without her."

Pran ran to Dil and pulled her to her feet. "You
hear these words, Dil? It is the Householder himself
who bids you come. And Lukja, she is the Zoi Shpiis
— the Woman of the House — you cannot refuse to
come when she requests it."

DiFs blue eyes filled, and Notz, to hide his own
tears of joy, turned to Lul and hugged her to his
breast ecstatically.

Dil went to Ndrek, and taking one of his hands
she pressed it to her forehead, then to her heart. She
ran and knelt before Lukja, kissing her skirt's edge.
"Thanks are not enough for what you do, Pran's
mother. I pledge myself to you, my hands, my
arms — all my strength — always." Her voice choked.
Lukja raised her up.

"Get ready, daughter. Henceforth our roof is
yours. It is true we shall be hungry before harvest,
but what matter? We shall make shift somehow."

"What matter indeed?" thought Pran next day,
taking the trail, a bag of the city's cornmeal tied to
her shoulders. "Our feet point north at last. Home
fies ahead."

They made the long way gladly, all of them, their

178 PRAN OF ALBANIA

hearts filled with the joy of going back, even though
it meant to desolation.

They passed many a house, roofless, with black-
ened walls, and knew that farther west many went
back to ruins worse than this. But Thethi had been
spared destruction. It was little altered. Heaven had
been kind. Their own house, bare of all food and
livestock, still stood.

As they sat about the home hearth that night
Notz came and sat down close to Pran and Dil. His
look was serious. " Pran — Dil," he said in an earnest
voice, "I have come with a confession."

Both looked at him, surprised. Without a word he
took out of his girdle a bulging cloth packet. He laid
it in Pran*s lap. She Hfted it. It was heavy, and the
circled shapes of coins showed through the fabric.
"It is money," she said to Dil, amazed.

**Open it," said Notz.

Pran undid the cloth and spread it out on her lap.
A heap of copper and silver lay on it. "Why, Notz,
where did all this come from?" she stammered.
Dil looked at her brother as if afraid of what he was
going to say.

Notz was shamefaced a little. He reddened, and
his brown eyes avoided theirs, looking across the
hearth to where Lul sat. "That is all honest money,'*

BACK TO THETHI I79

he said and brought his eyes back to Pran's. "It is
the money the people gave Lul for dancing. She al-
ways gave it to me. You thought I spent it for food,
but I did not. I saved some of it every time. Hungry
or not, I saved it, fearing the time when Pran and the
others should leave us alone again. I saved it not for
myself — or Dil — only for Lul." His dark eyes fell.
**She is so little — she is not strong — and — besides —
she is my sister." His voice had fallen nearly to a
whisper, and on the last words it broke in a little sob.
He swallowed — controlled himself. **I did not do
wrong, keeping it for her," he said more bravely, look-
ing up at Pran.

*'No, Notz," Pran answered, "but "

He interrupted her. "Take it now, Pran. Give it to
Lukja. She can buy chickens from a village where
the soldiers have not been. Then there will be eggs
and some meat for all of us before the harvest
comes."

Pran carried it to Lukja joyfully. That summer the
chickens bought with Notz's secret hoard did much
to help Lukja feed her hungry brood. Meanwhile an
early spring had made planting early, and a plentiful
harvest saved them all from real starvation.

By fall, life was settled somewhat into its old chan-
nels. The girls spun and wove and helped Lukja cook

l80 PRAN OF ALBANIA

and carry wood and water. Notz worked with Ndrek
in the fields, and the twins took the tiny flock of
sheep and goats Ndrek had mustered out to the
pastures. Lul learned to knit, and some days she
went with the twins to sit in the grass and ply her
needles while they watched the animals and blew on
the shepherd pipes that Gjon had made. Some days
she stayed at home and played about or helped the
girls work. She was rosy now, rosy and happy.
The mountain air had driven the poison of the
fever out of her body.

Ndrek went to far villages, where animals were
plentiful, and traded some of his corn for goats and
sheep. He was eager to build up his herds again,
and wool was needed, with so many now to clothe.
He traveled long distances, his rifle on his back and
round his waist his belt of cartridges.

Lukja said to Pran, "Of course he takes his gun,
being a man. But truth is he has little need to use it
now. He travels safer than he ever has."

"Why.?'' asked Pran.

"The war last year, as evil as it was, brought good
along with it!'' said Lukja. "The bessa that the
tribes made when the Slavs came in has been re-
newed. They keep the truce still. So long as this is

BACK TO THETHI l8l

SO old feuds are stifled. No one takes blood payment
for a while. Ndrek is safe even on enemy land. God
grant it lasts!" She crossed herself.

So Ndrek went along trails where even a year ago
his life or that of any man of Shala tribe would not
have been safe for the distance of ten steps. Thinking
of this Pran felt a thankfulness.

"The wound the war made bleeds no more," she
said to Dil that night as they lay under their blanket
together. "The herd grows; the corn is gathered;
even Ndrek lives safer than before. Now you shall
know Thethi life at its best."

"Time is the best medicine," answered Dil. "It is
already autumn. To-day the leaves began falling.
And last week when I was in Skodra I saw three
brides in bridal clothing walking through the street.
It is the wedding season."

Pran laughed softly, for in the darkness about
them all the rest slept. She whispered, "We shall
have to find a husband some day for you, Dil. Then
you will no longer live in exile but have a home of
your own. You will like that."

"There is time foi all things,'' said Dil, "and I do
not want to leave Lukja so soon. I have done little to
repay her and Ndrek for all they have done and still

iSZ PRAN OF ALBANIA

do for Llesh Markut's children/' She paused, then
whispered more softly, "Are you betrothed, Pran?
You have never said."

"Not I," said Pran. "Lukja was not betrothed till
late herself and wished it not for me. I know some
girls are promised from the day that they are born,
or even before birth, but I was not. I am not sorry.
I love my own home and do not wish to wed myself
too early. I should think it hard — a sad thing even —
to go to a strange house and wed a man unseen by me
before, a stranger really. I have always wanted the
years to pass less swiftly toward the marriage time;
for it must come — to all of us.''

"Some women do not marry,'' Dil replied. "They
turn morgeshe — nuns. You've seen the mountain
nuns?"

"Once I saw one," said Pran. "The man she had
been betrothed to died, and she took the virgin's
vow and did not change it. She wore men's clothing,
even bore a rifle, and cut her hair."

"One can choose such a life," said Dil. "There was
such a one in Prifti, I remember. Her betrothed had
not died; she only chose never to marry. One has that
right, of course. Myself, I would not take a vow like
that. Better a home and children." Dil yawned.
"We talk too long, Pran. It is already the third hour

BACK TO THETHI 183

of dark. We should be sleeping. Good-night. May
you see good things in the night."

** Good-night, Dil," answered Pran. "Sleep easily."

She herself turned to sleep but could not. Dil's
words had roused her to thinking. Yes, she was older
now. Many a girl her age would marry this very sea-
son. She knew that. What if some day Lukja should
call her to her and tell her of betrothal plans and the
marriage day.f^ Her heart beat faster a little. "I am
not old enough," she told herself, "and Lukia needs
me. Her back is not so strong as it once was to bring
in wood and water. She will not send me off to a
husband early."

She turned restlessly, hearing Dil's steady breath-
ing at her side. "Some day, perhaps, some day. Not
yet."

She drowsed. Half dreams passed through her head.
She seemed to see again, as she often had since the
war, the dark cave where she had listened to the spies
talking. Again she saw the men go bravely out —
return again, ragged, victorious. Their faces crowded
past her dreaming mind. One face stood clearly out —
a voice called — Nush's face. Nush, wounded! Pran
started, suddenly awake. She sat up, open eyed, star-
ing into the thick dark, lit only by th/^ tiny glow of
coals on the banked hearth

184 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Where was Nush now? Had he got well of his hurt
and gone to that far village where he lived, mysteri-
ously, in a house not his own? "I must see Nush,'*
she said to herself, "I must see him. Why, I have
never told him what his necklace did for me and how
the charm saved Ndrek; and I have not talked
with him — of anything. I wonder where he is. I have
not met him yet on any trail. Perhaps — the twins

" Why had she not thought of them? It was with

them that she had first seen Nush. To-morrow she
would ask them. They went far with the flocks.
She'd talk to Gjon. Besides, the bessa held still.
Likely enough Nush could go freely now, live openly.
Certain it was he had dressed like a Maltsor that day
of the border fight. She'd ask Gjon. And if Gjon
could not help, she herself would make inquiries
when she went to the bazaar. "But" — her heart mis-
gave her — "I do not even know his father's name
nor where he lives. There are a thousand Nushes in
these hills." She gave a little rueful laugh in the
stillness of the dark room.

She lay down and pulled the blanket round her.
But an evil thought seized her: "What if Nush had
died?" Some wounds got poisonous and killed a man.
She shuddered. Yes, she must ask Gjon to-morrow.
She felt Dil's body near her. Why not tell Dil? She

BACK TO THETHI 185

never had told Dil. She could not now — not when Dil
had spoken so of growing up and wedding. Dil would
think it odd for her to seek to meet so secretly a
strange young man — for now he was a man, no doubt
of that. Had he not carried a rifle at the border with
the rest — and fought, even as they.f* She would ask
Gjon. She curled herself up to sleep.

When the morning came she went down the stairs
with Nik and Gjon and followed them outside.
"Gjon," she said, "you remember the big boy, Nush,
who saved Nik's life when we went honey-hunting
long ago? Since we came back to Thethi have you
ever met him or seen him passing on the trail when
you were out.?"

At first both boys looked blank, and then Nik
turned away, his eyes avoiding hers. Gjon reddened;
then, shamefaced, as if remembering, he said, "Pran,
I should have told you. Last week Nik saw that boy
in the bazaar. He dresses as a man now — wears a gun.
I meant to tell you of it. Nik told me, for Nush gave
him a message for you."

Pran's heart beat fast. A message! And Nik had
seen him! "Nik!" she called. Nik turned unwillingly.
"Cha don? What do you want?" he asked.

"Gjon says you met with Nush in the bazaar — and
that he sent me words by you. What were they? And

1 86 PRAN OF ALBANIA

why did you not tell before, you little donkey?'*
Her voice trembled with eagerness.

Nik stood before her, silent. Then his eyes twisted
away from hers. He dug a shamed toe into the
earth and spoke low, reluctantly: *' Yes, I did see him.
I told Gjon, and I meant to tell you too, but I for-
got.** He stopped.

Pran spoke impatiently: "For heaven's sake, Nik,
tell me what he said. Don't stand there like a silly —
dumb as a rock."

Nik went on, still unwillingly. "It was last
week — Wednesday — that I saw him. He — he said to
tell you to meet him in three days — at the same tree
where we had found the honey long ago. He said to
be there early — he would wait."

"Oh — Nik!" Pran hardly could keep back tears of
exasperation, disappointment. "Oh, Nik — and ten
days have passed since then. He told you that — and
you forgot so long? How could you?" Her voice grew
hard. "I can't forgive you, Nik."

Nik's eyes besought her. "Really I meant to,
Pran. Other things drove it clean out of my
head. Gjon forgot too — even Gjon forgot. Scold
him."

Gjon took up the tale sadly: "Yes, we forgot. And
when we did remember it was too late, and we were

BACK TO THETHI 187

both ashamed." He caught Pran's hand. "Do not be
angry, muttra."

Pran shook his hand off. "I am not angry at you,
Gjon. Only at Nik." Suddenly she took hold of Nik's
drooping shoulders as if to shake him; then as sud-
denly let her hands drop. "Oh, what's the use!
You are a little blockhead — nothing else." She
spoke to Gjon. "You do not know all that Nush did
for us. It was really Nush who saved me when I was
in grave danger at the border." She let her voice drop.
"And it was really Nush that saved Ndrek — so
that he came back to us — unhurt. We owe him much
— and I — " she spoke unsteadily — "I wanted to
thank him. Now "

Nik touched her arm. "Listen, muttra, I have not
forgotten everything. Nush sent you words besides
what I have told. Listen, I'll tell you."

Pran turned on him eagerly. "What words — ^what
message?"

Nik was thoughtful a moment. Then he said, "I
remember it all, now. Nush told me three times over

so I would keep the words. He said, *Tell her '"

He paused.

"What? 'Tell her ' What, Nik?" Pran

prompted.

Nik straightened. His face cleared. "I have it

l88 PRAN OF ALBANIA

now," he said. "*Tell her I have not forgotten her.
I think of her always. Tell her not to forget me
v^ither.'" Nik drew a deep breath. "There — that was
all of it — that and the words to meet him by the
tree."

Pran's bitterness against Nik faded away. She
smiled, but scolded still. "Castrovetsa, you cu-
cumber! You are not old enough for messages,
though Gjon here would have been. Is this last
message true? Were those his words .f*" She doubted.

"Po, sha Zoten, yes, by the heavens," said Nik.

**He speaks truth." Gjon moved an assenting head.

"Well, go then, both of you. Take your flocks
and keep a sharp lookout. When next you see Nush —
if you ever do— °tell him Gjon is my messenger, not
you, Nik."

"I am sorry," murmured Nik repentantly.

"Run along now," Pran ordered. "Your sheep will
starve if we stand talking here."

They went, Nik looking back a dozen times, until
Pran waved a forgiving hand.

That day and all day, while she was busy with her
household tasks, her mind went over all that Nik
had said. She rehearsed each word of Nush's to her-
self. He had asked for her — asked her to meet him.
How cruel Nik had been, forgetting that! Perhaps

BACK TO THETHI 1 89

Nush had waited hours at the old tree — all day —
thinking she had refused to come — had failed him.
But there was comfort in his other words. He had
not forgotten her; he thought of her — "always.*
Well, she would think of him — would not forget him,
either. And Nik had said no word of any hurt — a
crippled arm? No, Nush's wound had healed, ap-
parently. She thanked the saints for that.

**You are far away to-day, Pran,'' said Dil.

"My head is as full of thoughts as the Shala River
is of pebbles,'' answered Pran, and she glanced at
Dil, who worked at the loom beside her. She thought,
"You do not know who it is fills my head!" Dil did
not raise her eyes. She worked on silently, while
through Pran's brain a thousand fancies chased,
fancies that colored all that day for her and many
days thereafter.

CHAPTER XII

lukja's secret

/IFTER that Pran went out to the pastures as
l\. often as she could in the hope of seeing Nush,
but he did not appear. And though on the feast
days her eyes were always searching through the
crowd for his face she did not see it. Sometimes she
dreamed of him at night. She made up her mind the
next time she went to Skodra to buy a new cord for
the bear's-tooth necklace. The one she had was wear-
ing through in spots. But even in Skodra there was
no sign of Nush.

One day in the late autumn Pran was walking back
from the mountain spring, the full keg of water tied
to her back. It was early in the morning, and the
gathering rain clouds of the coming season were not
yet scattered by the sun. Every day now they would
get thicker and thicker, until one morning they
would hide the sky, and the rain would come, and
then winter and the snow. The necks of the moun-
tains would be blocked with great drifts. Few
travelers would take the trails. Soon there would

190

LUKJA S SECRET I9I

be no chance at all of seeing Nush till spring.

As she entered the lower room Pran noticed that
the little cross of peeled twigs that was fastened to
the wall was gone. She looked down, and there it lay-
on the floor. "That is bad luck," she thought. "When
the Evil One plans trouble he must first do away
with the holy signs." She frowned a little as she un-
slung the water carrier. She filled a wooden bowl with
water for the chickens, set it on the floor, and went to
the animal pen to let out the cackling hens.

As she leaned to undo the gate of woven twigs that
shut the pen she felt her necklace, which she had not
yet restrung, pull tight against her neck. She drew
back hastily — too hastily — for the string of the neck-
lace, caught on the fork of a twig, tightened and
snapped. The bear's teeth and the coins fell to the
floor and scattered over the tramped earth.

"Woe!" exclaimed Pran aloud, "Woe! Woe!
What curse is about to fall on us — on me.^"

The chickens scurried out past her as she leaned to
pick up the fragments of her precious necklace.

Hurriedly she carried the pieces upstairs and sat
down by the hearth to string them on her new cord.
Dil was getting ready to go out with the twins to
pasture. Notz with Lul by the hand waited for
Ndrek. To-day they were to mend the woven fences

192 PRAN OF ALBANIA

of the cornfields. Only Lukja was idle, sitting, her
knee drawn up against her chest, before the fire and
gazing into the red coals thoughtfully.

As Pran sat down with her cord in her hand and the
bear's teeth and the three coins gathered in a cloth,
her eyes rested on Lukja's quiet face. Rarely had she
seen her mother's hands empty of work like this.
What was it.? There was almost sorrow in her eyes.

**Nona," she said, "why are you sad.? I see your
spirit just behind your lips ready to fly forth."

Lukja did not answer, only for a moment raised
her eyes to Pran's face and then looked again into the
coals.

The rest went down the stairs, calling farewells.

Pran sat and strung the bear's teeth and the coins
on the new cord, knotting and fastening them just
as they had been fastened. She thought, *'It must not
be different. It must be exactly as it was when he
gave it to me."

Below she could hear the boys and Dil marshaling
the goats and sheep. She heard the tiny patting beat
of hoofs, the little bleatings, as the small herd went
out. The shepherds' voices grew fainter. The steps of
Notz and Lul and Ndrek died on the trail. Even the
chickens made no sound now. They had gone out to
peck about the yard. The house was still. A tiny shaft

LUKJA S SECRET I93

of sun fell through the window hole past the small
wooden shutter that opened inwards.

The silence was good to Pran. She had felt dis-
turbed by the sight of the twig cross lying on the
floor, by her broken necklace. When she had finished
stringing the bear's teeth she would go down and tie
the cross up again. Perhaps Dil or Ndrek had fixed
it, going out. It was a bad sign, surely; but now, in
the stillness, peace settled on the room and on her
spirit. Perhaps the broken necklace was a sign that
Nush was coming. Why not.? The bessa made him
free to come. She worked, feeling a solace now.

Suddenly her mother moved. Pran raised her
eyes; and Lukja, smiling into them, spoke quietly.
** Daughter, something is on my heart — something
concerning you. When you have finished what you
do, come near to me. I will tell you."

Pran's heart, despite the calmness of the words,
gave a great thump of dread. The cross hed fallen,
her dear necklace snapped into pieces, now Lukja
spoke in this foreboding way. What? What? Her
heart fluttered in little beats. Evil was on the way.
Back of her mother's words what lay — what lay?

She made no movemet to betray these thoughts.
She only said, "Po, Nona," and her eyes and fingers
went back to her work.

194 PRAN OF ALBANIA

But her thoughts surged. Why had she failed to
fasten up the cross at once ? Leaving it there, she had
given the Evil One the very chance he wanted.
Likely as not the spirits of the Oras' Wood toward
Gimaj talked of this very thing, calling the evil
news across the valley to the other oras. If only she
had heard them, had been warned. What could it be?
Her fingers worked more rapidly. Better to know.
She hurried.

"There," she said, fastening the last tooth in its
place. "There," and she put the necklace round her
neck.

"My ears are ready, Nona, but before we talk — I
saw the holy little cross below lying on the floor. It
is an evil sign to have a holy symbol lying on the floor
under men's feet — trampled perhaps."

Lukja made a sign of consent, and Pran ran down
the stone stairs to the room below. There lay the
cross. No one had picked it up. No one had seen it,
then. But she had seen it. She was the one who
should have set it back. The sign had been meant for
her, and she had wickedly refused to heed it. Why had
she been so careless?

"Woe!" thought Pran again, a strange dread
sweeping through her. She picked up the blessed
twigs and crossed herself and kissed the center where

lukja's secret 195

the twigs were tied. She fastened the cross against
the wall again, and her heart quieted. Now she would
go back and hear what lay so heavily on Lukja's
heart.

Once in the upper room she went and sat herself
down by Lukja, cross-legged, with her two hands
clasped in her lap, .loosely. She held them so. She
would not fear.

**What is it, Nona? What do you want to say?'*

Lukja's eyes looked into hers a moment, then went
back to the fire. Taking a stick that lay near on the
floor she stirred the coals, then laid the new stick
on them. It smoked and kindled — flared. Pran
waited.

At last her mother spoke. **Pran, I can remember
well the aay I tied you to the cradle board, a new-
bom child. Since then the years have passed. You are
a child no more." Her mother's hand reached out and
rested on Fran's knee. She did not turn her head to
look at Pran, but sat so — as if waiting for the words
to come.

"I do not feel so old," said Pran unsteadily, re-
membering the talk with Dil that night not long ago.
"I am still just the girl-child of you — and of Ndrek.
I do not long to be a woman grown."

"But you are that," said Lukja firmly now. "You

196 PRAN OF ALBANIA

are a woman, Pran, and Ndrek must think what is

his duty toward you — as a father, and " She

paused and turned to smile into Pran's face, but her
eyes stayed sad. She said, "Ndrek must hsten now
to the fathers of young men who seek a wife, offering
the purchase money for the bride."

Pran's heart was in her throat. Her chin trembled
like the chin of a little child who feels tears coming.
She did not move, yet she could feel herself thrust
this thing from her — push away Lukja's words.

**No, Nona, no," she cried out softly, "I am not
yet betrothed. You said yourself you did not like a
girl's being promised early — at birth or when a child.
You told me." Pran clung desperately to these old
words of Lukja's, though as she spoke hope ebbed.

With Lukja's next words hope vani<^h. „. "'No, I
did not betroth you early, Pran. I let you live and
grow — freely — unpledged to any man. Perhaps I was
not wise. But now you are a child no longer." There
was a sternness now in Lukja's voice, almost im-
patience. The words came clearly — inescapably —
falling Hke little blows on Pran's ears, hating them.
"Ndrek has promised you. You are betrothed. A
year from now the marriage season comes and you
will wed."

Pran's hands clasped themselves tightly in her

lukja's secret 197

lap. She felt the nails cutting into the backs of them.
She tossed her head back in passionate refusal, and
her Hps moved, "Yo, yo,'' but her voice did not
sound. A pain went through her, hurting — hurting.
She must not cry — no, no, she must not cry!

Then she found her voice. "Nona," she said, **I
do not wish to wed." She could say no more. Feeling
choked her.

Lukja's sternness vanished. She put her two arms
around Pran, holding her. And Pran bent her head
down against her mother's shoulder, keeping her
sobs back, weeping inside her heart.

Lukja's tone now was tender, and the love that was
in her for her only girl found its way into her voice,
"Pran, my little heart — Pran, you must not feel sor«
row over this." There was silence then, only Pran's
drawn sharp breaths sounded in the room. Lukja
went on, her hand stroking the bent kerchiefed head
pressing her shoulder. "It is a woman's life — to
grow, and wed, and go to her own home; make
children, work, and take her joy in this; her man, her
family, her house. It is the way of life." And then, as
if to herself, "I have done wrong not telling you so
long. I, like yourself, Pran, wanted you a child — at
home — with us."

Tears forced themselves out from under Pran's

198 PRAN OF ALBANIA

closed lids. She raised her head and with her kerchiefs
end wiped them away. Lukja dropped her arms, and
Pran took her mother's two hands in hers and sat
there, on her heels, her head bent down.

For a time neither spoke. Then Pran said, "Nona,
to whom am I betrothed?''

" My sparrow, you will go to a good man — who from
his father owns much fertile land, though far — he is
of Merturi. Prendnush is his name. Prendnush, Son-
of-Prenk, of Rai." She paused, went on: "Ndrek
loves you even more than other fathers love their
daughters. You know that yourself. You were our
first-born, and for long the only child. When it
looked as though no son would come Ndrek said to
me, *She shall be our son.' He loves you. It was he as
much as I who put off your betrothal. You know in
Skodra girls must buy their husbands, but here in
our mountains women have value, and a man must
give much for a wife. Many a man promised Ndrek
cattle and cornmeal, gold coins and jewel-set chains
to get you for his son, but he refused, your father,
wanting for you the best in birth and nature. He
waited. Now he gives you willingly. He knows and
trusts the man he weds you to. Trust Ndrek, your
father." She stopped and said again, "He loves you,
Pran."

LUKJA S SECRET I99

Pran spoke: "I know. I know. I love him too,
Ndrek." Her voice took fire now. "No girl has a bet-
ter man than I for father."

"Then trust him in this thing," Lukja said. "Do
as he would wish. I know the young man, too, and
his mother well."

The dog barked sharply in the yard. Lukja looked
up. "Who comes.?" she said. They rose. "God's
grace," thought Pran. "No more now for a while."

It was Dil coming back. "That puppy barks at
friends as well as foes," she called from the lower
room.

When she came in Pran turned her back to her,
called her a greeting, busying herself at the cooking
shelf, mixing bread for the noon meal. Dil must not
know. But Dil would have to know. They all would
know. Had not her mother said the thing was done
and settled?

In the dark corner of the room Pran mixed the
bread, and into the yellow batter her tears fell. She
could not keep them back. She stayed there a long
time stirring the meal and water with her hand, nor
let her sobbing make a single sound against th^
talking of the other two.

Nush's face seemed to rise before her eyes. "If I
could see him." Why should she see Nush.? Be-

200 PRAN OF ALBANIA

trothed, she could not even talk with him again, most
likely. Oh, it was all cruel wickedness, this thing.
No wonder that the cross had fallen down for her.
No wonder that the twig had snapped his chain!

She could not stand here longer beating the bread.
She rubbed her face clean of its tears. She poured
the batter out into the shallow pan, covered, and
carried it to the fire. Dil bent to rake out the red
coals for her, and Pran leaned down and set the bread
pan in the ashes, piling the embers on the top of it,
coal after coal. "The pan is like my heart," she
thought, '* buried in the hot ashes of sorrow."

Notz and Lul came home for noonday bread.
"Ndrek is working still," Notz said to Lukja. "I
will carry him some bread and cheese."

Pran heard the words thankfully. No, she could
not have borne to see Ndrek just then. She saw
Notz's glance shift from her reddened eyes. She felt
relief that Nik and Gjon were out and would be out
till evening. She could not eat, but she must make
pretense. The bread was tasteless in her mouth. She
did not Hsten to what the others said.

That afternoon she and Dil threaded the loom for
weaving. They talked but little. "Dil's heart under-
stands," Pran told herself.

Time dragged. Pran longed for evening and the

LUKJA S SECRET 20I

dark, so that she could be shut off from them a bit,
and lie — and think. ** If only I could see Nush!" Why
Nush?

At last night came. Pran showed Ndrek her usual
smiling face. Guests came. Old songs were sung. The
children slept. Dil and Pran went to their corner,
lay under their one blanket listening to the men's
voices. There was relief for Pran in the high ringing
shriek that filled the room. The phrase of music, sung
a hundred times the same, stilled the restlessness of
her thinking, gave her a peace. But when the song
stopped then her own thoughts leaped again at her,
like gnawing dreadful beasts tearing her mind.
Should she tell Dil.? Why not? She must tell someone.
This was too hard to stand alone.

"Dil," she whispered, when the songs began again,
^'Dil."

"Yes, Pran."

"You and I talked a month or more ago of brides
and marriages. Remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Dil answered under the ring-
ing music.

"To-day," Pran said, "Lukja talked to me of that
same thing. I am betrothed."

Dil's voice betrayed an eager excitement. "Oh,
Pran, you — you — betrothed? Who is the man?"

202 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran's own voice was bitter. "What does it matter
who? Someone of Rai — of Merturi. Son to Prenk."

"You are not glad?" Dil's tone showed a surprise.

"Glad? Why should I be glad? No, I am not glad.
I do not want to wed." Impotent anger smote her.
Her voice broke. "I cannot bear it, Dil. I cannot bear
it." She choked a sob back, but she felt tears on her
cold cheeks.

Dil's hand sought hers in the darkness hiding
them. Her voice was puzzled — hurt almost. "Why,
Pran dear, why do you feel this way? Marriage is
good, not evil."

Pran turned on her face now, burying her head in
her circled arms. Her body shook, but no sound came
from her. She felt Dil put a hand on her shoulder,
and she heard Dil's whispered calm voice: "Some-
times a girl dreads marriage, having seen a man
whom she desires for hers. That is not so with you,
Pran— is it?"

Pran's sobbing stopped. She raised her head up sud-
denly. What had Dil said ? She had asked \{what was
true? "A man whom she desires for hers." Was that
the truth ? The face of Nush came up before her. She
saw his firmly smiling mouth and his blue-gray eyes
as they had looked into hers on that day of the battle
at the Fig Tree Gulch. She stared at the darknes^

lukja's secret 203

of the wall that faced her. Was it true, then, she
hated marriage for itself? She had always known
some day she would be wed. Would she have set
herself so desperately against betrothal if Nush
were the man Ndrek had picked for her?

Dil said again, "Is someone in your heart, Pran,
that you cannot go to him whom Ndrek chooses?
Tell me, friend of my heart, tell me, Pran." She
threw her arm over Pran's shoulders, putting her own
cheek against Pran*s wet one. *' Trust me and tell,"
she murmured, **muttra iamia.''

Besought like this, Pran wavered. Why should
she not tell, then, if it was true? And each moment
passing made her know its truth. Let her confess to
Dil what she had never till now acknowledged to
herself. There would be peace in that — peace and a
strange new happiness. Dil's question said itself over
in her bewildered head: "Is someone in your heart?"

She caught her breath, held it, turned her face
round so that her mouth was close against Dil's ear.
She breathed her answer softer than any breath:
"Someone is in my heart!" then turned her head
away and let herself sink quietly down beside the
unmoving Dil. So the two lay.

The songs were over now. They heard the men un-
winding girdles, slipping off moccasins. Everyone

204 PRAN OF ALBANIA

made ready for the night. The fire burned low. Thick
darkness filled the room. Time passed, and still the
two girls did not move. Soon all were sleeping. Only
^hey two waked.

Pran raised her head on one hand, her face toward
Dil. She whispered to her, **Dil, you think that is
evil of me?"

**No," came Dil's voice.

"I did not know until you asked me, Dil, that it
was so. I thought I only hated leaving home — going
to Merturi to a stranger's house. But now — I see
what holds me. It is thought of him. If he were the
one I went to — I would go — " a throb went through
her, and her heart beat with the sudden glad truth of
what she said — **I would go — gladly, Dil, gladly."

"Did you tell Lukja that.?" Dil asked.

"Oh, no, how could I? It was not in my mind."
Pran's voice caught in a half sob.

"What did you tell her, then?" asked Dil.

"Nothing," said Pran. "Nothing. I only wept."

"Then Lukja thinks ?"

"She thinks— I will," said Pran.

For a moment Dil did not speak. Then she said
slowly, "It will be next wedding season, then — next
fall."

Pran sat up in the dark, drawing her knees close to

LUKJA S SECRET 205

her with her arms. "Next fall — next fall/' she
thought. She pressed her forehead down on her
rough cloth skirt. A little moan escaped her.

"Will it be?'' said Dil, and her voice searched.

"Oh, Dil — I can't — I can't!" Pran's eyes were
dry. Fear swept her then — fear of where her own
thoughts were leading.

And as if knowing those thoughts Dil spoke. "The
thing is done," she cautioned. "There is no escape."

Pran's heart felt like cold lead within her breast.
She stared dry eyed into the impenetrable blackness
of the room. No shadow showed. The fire seemed
dead — extinguished. Her lips formed twice her next
words before they would be said, and when they came
she heard her own voice sound far off — and lost:
"There is one way,'' she said.

Dil sat up suddenly and gripped her arm hard.
Her voice trembled a little. "Pran — Pran — you
would not do that — not — take the vow?"

Pran heard her own voice as before, cold and far
off, make answer, "I would — I shall.'" Then there was
silence.

At last Dil spoke, and Pran could hear the pain
and sorrow in her voice. "Oh, Pran," she said, and
then again, "Oh, Pran."

Pran's hand sought Dil's cheek and stroked it as

206 PRAN OF ALBANIA

one who would give comfort. "Do not weep tears for
me, Dil. Every sheep must hang by its own leg. This
will not be hard, once I have told Ndrek and Lukja."
She pressed her face to Dil's. "Good-night — good-
night. I cannot talk more now. Thoughts strangle me.
Sleep, Dil. Good-night."

Dil kissed her, laid herself down. "Good-night,
my Pran. May the night bring you peace."

Pran listened till she heard Dil breathe the slow
breath of sleep. She alone waked now. She was alone.
Dark shut her from the others mercifully. Here she
would sit and let her own desperate thoughts think
themselves out.

So — it was Nush — Nush who had kept her back
and made her hate her father for this deed — his duty
really. It was Nush — Nush — whose name and town
and tribe she did not know. Nush who thought still
of her — had even said, "I shall not forget." She
would not, either. She could promise that. Relief
swept over her — relief that she had made decision.
But that decision seemed to shake the very base of
life — her deepest being. Why should she fear? What
was so terrible in the virgin's vow that she should
tremble like a stick in the water? She would have
home — and family — and tribe. Nothing was lost to
her of what she had. And yet — to set herself apart

LUKJA S SECRET 207

forever so — no longer even to wear a woman's garb —
to carry the sign and symbol of a man — a rifle — on
her girl's back ? Something deep in herself revolted at
the thought. To live so, and grow old, and at the last
to have no home but this — Ndrek and Lukja dead.
Never to belong to any man, nor ever to bear sons.
Hardship was in that last. For as much as she had
wanted to postpone her wedding day, still she had
not thought never to be a wife. And now, so long as
the man lived to whom Ndrek had given her, she
must keep to her vow — forego a woman's life — for-
ever.

Again Nush's face rose before her, laughing, clear.
No, she could not have Nush — not ever — that was
sure. Well, then — this was the best. This she chose
gladly since that could not be.

"To-morrow I will tell them." A chill went over
her. She shuddered. Unwelcome words for any par-
ent's ear. Lukja would grieve — might try to change
her, even. And Ndrek — what would he say.? Re-
proaches.? Anger.? Sorrow, perhaps? — No, surely.
Oh, for her to hurt her father so! But — ''my life is
mine. Lukja has said to-day I am a woman. This is
a woman's right. They cannot gainsay or thwart it.
I stand on a mountain canon, old as time. This is our
law. I take the law, and I shall stand on the strong

208 PRAN OF ALBANIA

rock of it and never move though the earth open
under me."

Resting her elbows on her knees, her chin on her
cupped hands, she sat long hours, hugging to her
young breast this strange resolve. "My Hfe is mine.
This is a woman's right.''

So she sat till the black dark at last gave way to
dawn.

Men stirred, the children waked, the fire was
roused. She heard all this and saw it, but she still
sat, a statue, motionless and cold, dreading the day,
yet feeling through herself, after her vigil, strength
and peace: strength to face Lukja and Ndrek, and
peace that would help her to take up this life that
she had chosen for her own.

She did her work silently that day, talking with no
one, not even Dil. Often she felt her mother's eyes on
her face, puzzled, pleading a little.

At sunset by the fire of the lower room she found
Lukja standing alone. ** Mother," she said, and told
her. Lukja said little, but it seemed to Pran as if her
mother's tears fell on her own heart and each drop
burned there like a drop of fire.

*'Ndrek!" Lukja called him down from the upper
room. Pran spoke. He heard, unmoving. Pran stood
before him, her eyes on the floor. What would he say

LUKJA S SECRET 209

— her father? Her heart beat in great throbs and her
throat was dry. She waited. Would he never speak?
At last! His hand on her bent head, his voice shaken

with sorrow. "My girl '' he said, and stopped.

Then mastering himself he spoke calmly, as always:
"It is your right," he said.

Pran could not look. She heard his feet drag heavily
up the stone stairs.

CHAPTER XIII

NU SH AGAIN

BEFORE twelve witnesses — twelve mountain-
eers— Pran took her vow. Each man who heard
was surety for her and was in honor bound to see
she kept that vow. Said one to her, "Should Ndrek
try to marry you to another, not only will he call
down on himself vengeance of your betrothed's
family, but likewise vengeance from each of us.
Let him remember that."

"He will not try,'' said Pran. "My mother sews
even now on the man's clothes for me, and Ndrek has
bought my rifle in Skodra only last week. Fear not
that this thing will embroil you — any of you. My
vow will be well kept."

"Mir," said the man, and slung his rifle over his
shoulder.

It was not hard for Pran to get used to her new
costume. She found it easier to move in than the
heavy stiff* skirt she had worn. Only her rifle seemed
strange to her at first. "But I have carried heavier
loads than this," she said to Dil, and smiled.

210

NUSH AGAIN 2H

Stranger to her was the new place she held. Often
when she was visiting the men made room for her to
eat with them.

**You eat with them?" said Nik, half amused.
Pran and Dil and the boys sat talking by the fire.

"Of course," said Pran, *'I can do so if I choose.
They say, 'You wear breeches just as we do, and
you carry arms. Sit down'; and then I do."

"But you are still a woman," insisted Nik.

"True," Pran answered, "but know that you ana
Gjon, when you inherit Ndrek's land from him, will
by decision of our council pay to me so much a year
in corn or other stuff. That is my right."

Dil said, "It is. Where I was born vowed virgins
like yourself hold lands and herds. After all, one can-
not live half a life. Since you cannot have all a
woman's life, then you have part of a man's. That is
the law."

But under these new honors Pran's heart was not
proud, nor happy even. Always in her mind the
thought of Nush lingered — and there was in her a
longing to see him — still unsatisfied. Often she felt
a peculiar loneliness.

The winter passed. Spring came. Although Pran
busied herself as always with the women's work she
felt a restlessness; and sometimes, taking her rifle on

212 PRAN OF ALBANIA

her straight young back, she would go out along the
trails alone and walk great distances, thinking her
thoughts.

"I seek," she told herself, '*I always seek. Some
day I will find out what it is I am seeking."

In her heart she knew, without admitting it, that
she sought always for a sight of Nush. But she had
turned her mind from thoughts of him. "When the
last strand is woven, then the cloth is done," she told
herself.

It was a day in early spring. The mountain streams
were full. Snow lay in scattered patches on the high
necks of the mountains. The sky was clear blue. The
sun was warm but not too warm for comfort. Pran,
in the tight white clothing of a man, her rifle on her
back, walked slowly on the narrow trail toward home.
She never sang now as she walked, but somehow to-
day a song was in her heart. "I am getting used
to this life," she thought, and hummed her song
softly.

The trail made a turn round a spur of the hill, and
then Pran saw it stretching Hke a wavy ribbon far
ahead, no one in sight.

"So is my Hfe," she thought. "I make a turn —
change from the old life as a girl — and now the path
of living lies clear before me. No one approaches."

NUSH AGAIN 21 3

As she looked along the trodden way, noting its
emptiness, she saw that to one side of it a little farther
on there sat on a rock the figure of a man.

Something in the pose of that still form smote
her with memory. She laughed a little bitterly to her-
self. "So much were my thoughts taken up with him
in those old days that now, seeing the shape of a man,
I take it for his likeness."

But as she walked on she could not turn her eyes
away. How much that sitting figure looked like
Nush ! It was the image of him as she had seen him in
the Maltsor clothes, walking from victory that day
so long ago.

As she approached, her heart beat faster, half m
fear that it was he and half in dread that it was not.
She saw the man was young and tall, and that he sat,
crouched there, his elbows on his bent knees, his
chin in his two hands, and gazing out over the valley,
unmoving, like a statue.

Her eyes scanned him from top to toe. Her
breath came shorter. Yes, this was Nush — or some-
one who looked too much as he would look not to
be Nush.

She reached him. He did not look at first, and then,
hearing her feet hesitate, he raised his eyes and his
lips spoke the words of greeting to her, as one man

214 PRAN OF ALBANIA

speaks them to another man: "A ye burr si ye?'*
And then he saw her woman's face. And she saw,
after these long, long months, Nush, and Nush's eyes,
and the firm mouth that now was marked above with
a mustache — a young man's mustache.

He started — got to his feet. In the blue-gray eyes
that met her own brown ones Pran could see a
recognition and astonishment. His rifle that he had
leaned against the rock clattered to the ground. He
stood transfixed and staring. She, half smiling, stood
before him, waiting for him to speak.

"Pran," he said at last, "Pran, is it you.?"

"It is I, Nush," she answered, holding his eyes
with hers.

He came up close to her and took her by one
shoulder. She could feel the strong grip of his fingers
through the heavy wool of her jacket.

"So," he said. "You took the vow. I heard." He let
his hand drop and took a few steps back on the grass
away from the trodden path. "Come, Pran, sit
down — and talk."

She moved to where he sat cross-legged on the
ground and sat down near him. For a while neither
spoke; only Pran's heart hammered exultingly
against her breast, and that sense of eternal seeking
she had felt so long ebbed from her. Before she was

NUSH AGAIN 21 5

aware of it she spoke. "I have found you," she said.
Her eyes did not leave his.

But he let his eyes roam over her, taking in her
costume and her gun as if incredulous, shocked
almost.

At last he said, "Why did you do this, Pran? Why
are you dressed so.? Why did you vow never to
marry?"

Her face hardened a little, and she could feel some
of that hardness creep into her voice. *'I had to take
the vow. There was no way but that. Ndrek be-
trothed me to a Merturi man — I know not who. I
had not ever seen him. And at the thought of such a
marriage something in me refused. I could not.

So " She stopped, and then her voice went on

more gently, "Ndrek is good. He took my word in
this, accepted it. Months now I have lived so."

Nush's eyes held a strange look in them. He stared
at her as if he had not understood.

Something in her resented what she saw. She would
defend herself, then. "Why should I not live so?"
Her cheeks burned under his eyes. "Why not? Think
you it is such happiness for a girl to go to a strange
house and wed a man she knows not of — has never
seen at all? I know that women do it. I would
not."

2l6 PRAN OF ALBANIA

She saw him frown, and his look was that of one
who cannot fathom the mystery before him.

He said her own words after her slowly, as if caught
up in a dream. "*A man she knows not of — has never
seen.' Why, Pran — ''a light broke over his face and
his voice took on reality again, yet questioned —
"you knew me. Pran. You had seen me."

"You?" said Pran vaguely, herself bewildered
now.

"Yes, me," Nush said with a fierce earnestness,
"me — Nush, Prendnush, Son-of-Prenk, of Rai,
Merturi. That is my name. Did you not know, Pran,
it was I they had chosen as your man?"

"You?" Pran's hands, that had been clasped, fell
apart Hmply. In her mind a thousand thoughts
surged up, choking each other. The name he had
given as his own name rang in her ears. "You?
You?"

The mystification that had shown in his face
cleared away now, as the moisture dries from wet
land after rain. His eyes were lit with a new light.
His words stumbled over each other in a glad eager-

ness

God in his heaven bless you, Pran. I had thought
all these long months that you refused marriage
with me — with Nush — and now — and now — " he

NUSH AGAIN 217

seized her two hands in his — "why, Pran, they never
told you it was I. How could they? — for you — '' he
laughed brokenly — "you never knew my name. I
had not told, had I? Always my nickname, Nush.
You did not know. Oh, Pran!" He could say no
more. His own gladness choked him. He sat holding
her two limp hands with his own and gazing into her
bewildered eyes. And Pran, her mind unbelieving,
took the words he said and dug their meaning out.

''You were the man.?" She could not understand.

"Pran, listen and learn. You have done this un-
knowing, and" — ruefully — "it is my fault — my fault.
I never told. I could not tell; but now I can tell.
Hear then how it is that Nush the Nameless is the son
of Prenk of Rai, whom they betrothed you to. Have
I your ears?"

A faint light glimmered in Pran's brain. Yes, it
was true Lukja had told the name, but — Lukja's old
words came back — "and I — I know his mother well."
The feast day and the coin — Giyl's strange behavior
getting this thing from Nush! "I know his mother
well." "Gjyl? Gjyl?" said Pran.

"Yes, Gjyl is mother to me," answered Nush.
"She and my grandfather and uncles went to your
house a long time back, when first I was in blood,
to make the betrothal pact with Ndrek. I know that

2l8 PRAN OF ALBANIA

now, though at the time I was not living in my own
house. But let me start at the beginning, Pran. All
mysteries will then be clear to you."

Pran's mind held itself back from piecing the
strange puzzle together for herself. Let Nush explain.
"Tell, then, Nush, the Nameless One, tell." She
smiled confidently up at him. "You have my
ears."

"Here, then, is Nush's mystery made plain,"
Nush said, holding her hands still, kneeling in front
of her. "Listen, my little nun, and you shall hear.
My father, Prenk, Son-of-Ded, was shot in a quarrel
over the boundary of a cornfield. Men have died for
less. He died for that. My uncle slew the slayer,
clearing our house's honor. But my Hfe, I being
Prenk's only son, was desired by the avenger — even
above my uncle's life. Fearing this vengeance, then,
they sent me ofF, my uncles, far from home. I lived in
a stranger house in Plani. My uncles did not tell Gjyl
where, fearing a mother's love would betray that
hiding place, for she would seek to see me often. So
I went to a place Gjyl knew not of and took the
name Nush, so that even tribal gossip could not give
word of where I was. Before I went Gjyl gave me that
gold coin and others like it, saying, *From time to
time, if you are safe and well, send these to me as

NUSH AGAIN 219

messages of that.' Through you one message reached
her. I, who was sworn to tell no one of who I was,
could not tell you that coin was for my mother. You
remember how you fulfilled the trust in ignorance of
what it really meant.?"

Pran shook her head, assenting. "Yes, I remember
well. I puzzled often over who you were."'

"Well," Nush went on, "I stayed at the stranger
house — rarely went out. That first day I met you on
the way from Skodra I had been recognized — in
danger, even. In fact, I went a long way round to set
a follower ofF the scent of where I lived. After that I
dared not go again, save in disguise, once or twice.
And I did that against advice." He laughed, and his
eyes sparkled. "I do not mind danger. That very day
we met and saw the fires, while walking in the bazaar
Fd brushed against the shoulder of the very man who
sought my life. He did not know me. You did not
either, Pran, remember that?"

A glow went over Pran. She laughed too. "Oh, I
remember well. I knew that day you were in blood,
of course, in hiding too, but I knew nothing else."

"The rest you know, but do not know you know,"
smiled Nush. "After that came the bessa and the
war. The bessa freed me. I was called a man and
joined my uncles in the border fight. I saw you there."

220 PRAN OF ALBANIA

His eyes softened in memory. "I saw you! — ^wearing
my necklace still." He touched it now.

Pran's hand went to it. She spoke now with a
happy eagerness. "Your necklace. Yes, Nush —
*Every tooth of it a spear to guard you!' Remember
that?"

He moved his head sideways, '*Po, bessa," he
replied, and Fran went on. **It is your turn to hear
then, Nush Nameless. It was this necklace with its
circle of spears that did protect me — saved my very
life; and Ndrek's too. I gave Ndrek one tooth.
It's missing still. He carried it at the border. He did
not get a wound." She told the story of the spies'
talk in the cave and how unknowingly she found her
way back into safety. "All because of you," she
ended; and though she could smile into his gazing
eyes she felt her throat choke with a little sob and
tears for a moment stung her eyelids. "Go on, Nush.
Tell the rest."

Nush took up his tale again. "After the war my
wound was long in healing, but it healed. For long I
did not go on any trail. I was at home again in Rai,
and Gjyl told me I was betrothed to you. They made
it plain. I knew that it was you. I knew — " his eyes
grew tender looking into hers — "I knew, and I was
glad. I thanked the saints. Each time I took the little

NUSH AGAIN 221

glass of rakia and gave praise to our Lord, as custom
is with us, I gave that praise to Him as thanks for
you — who should be mine one day."

His face grew dark now, and he dropped his eyes
to Pran's costume. Even his voice was sad, remember-
ing sadness. **And then, not knowing you were in
ignorance that Nush was Prendnush and your own
betrothed, I heard that you refused to come to me,
had set your mind against all marrying, and before
twelve men-at-arms had sworn to live forever virgin,
rather than wed with me." He stopped. He dropped
the hand he held and looked away, out over the hills
that shut them all around.

He spoke then, musingly. ''They said, 'She will
not come. She takes the virgin's vow.' I heard. I
could not understand." Silence — and he went on.
*'No one of course could know that we had met. I
did not tell. I even hid the sorrow that I felt from
everyone. Even Gjyl did not know. I bore that news
of you bound round my heart like a great rock tied
to the neck of a drowning sheep, a rock that drags and
drags down — down — and never can be loosed." Again
he was still, remembering his pain.

Pran leaned to him, laid her hand on his knee, try-
ing to get him to look back at her.

"Oh, Nush," she murmured, "Nush. I did not

222 PRAN OF ALBANIA

know. How could I ? You had kept your secret well,
and since the bessa I had never seen you nor talked to
you, remember that. I did not reject a marriage be-
tween us. It was — '* her voice dropped even lower,
and her eyes that had been seeking his looked at the
ground — "it was — because of you — of you — that I
refused to wed another man — as I thought, stranger
to me."

Nush turned to her again, taking her hand in his
two hands and holding it warm within them. She did
not look up, but she heard his voice gather gladness
as he spoke. "That rock of sorrow, strangling my
neck, is gone at those words, Pran — gone, vanished.
You have loosed it, and it has sunk forever out of
sight. My heart knows happiness now, knowing you
took the vow — because of me."

Pran felt tears gather in her eyes. Her voice was
hardly loud enough for her own ears to hear. " Be-
cause of you — Po, bessa."

She drew her hand away to wipe her tears and
turned a little from him, looking out, as he had done
before, over the hills. But he knelt silent, with his
eyes on her. No, she could not meet them for a while
— not now. She must not betray too freely all the joy
she felt. The silence drew itself out. To Pran it seemed
it never should be broken by word or sound, for it

NUSH AGAIN 223

held them both close, even though their hands
touched no longer. All the air stood still, and glim-
mered for her in a golden mist. Her rifle strap — for
she had not unslung it — pressed on her breast. She
passed her arm and shoulder out of it and let the rifle
fall on the ground beside her.

Nush gave a little laugh. **Yes, take it off,'* he
said, *'but there are twelve men who say it must be
on. They must be satisfied. How will you satisfy
them?"

Pran came back to reality and life. Her mind
cleared, and her eyes met Nush's eyes serenely.
**What have they vowed?" she said. "Vowed to take
blood if I should wed another man than you. Hearing
I wed with you, they are released. Is it not so?"

"You have said," Nush answered. "They will feel
relief that you have given in to your father's wish at
last. Many such witnesses have taken blood and lost
their lives in turn because a nun chooses, or is in-
duced, to break her vow and weds unlawfully another
man. If you wed me, then, how can blood be spilt ?
They take no vengeance on Ndrek for that, nor on
me either. And it is sure I shall not take revenge for
Ndrek's marrying his girl to me. The law is with us
and our hearts are with the law."

They both stood up radiant now. Pran said, "I've

224 PRAN OF ALBANIA

heard before talk of a woman's mind and how it turns
here and there Hke a leaf in the wind. Well, mine has
turned. Fll tell Ndrek to-night."

But Nush was serious. "One thing, my Pran, be-
fore you change the vow."

''What thing?" Pran*s voice was anxious suddenly.

Nush said, "As you came down the trail a while
ago you saw me sitting here lost in dark thoughts."

"Yes, Nush. What thoughts were they.?" Pran
laid her hand on his arm.

His own hand covered hers, holding it there, but
when he spoke he did not look at her.

"Dark thoughts," he said again, and then more
loud, "When you first met me I lived every day under
the cloud of death. I told you that. That cloud was
blown away because the tribes made a long truce to
fight the Slavs, and then thereafter they renewed
that truce." He paused, went on: "To-day that
truce threatens to be withdrawn. The bessa is to end.
Even now at Abate council sits and men talk the
thing out. They plan to end the bessa now. You know
the men are anxious to take up again old blood debts.
So many feuds have lain so long unsettled. And you
know too, being a Maltsor, that though Lek's Law
compounds a feud with fines our men are such that,
though they pay the fine, still they take blood. And

NUSH AGAIN 22$

SG, to-day, when the council has done with talk,
mthout doubt, word will go through all the moun-
tains that feuds are alive again, the bessa ended."

Pran's heart beat in slow beats of dread. "And
you, Prendnush?'*

**I, Prendnush, Son-of-Prenk, will be in blood, be
•owing payment, owing my own life for that man's
blnod my uncle slew before. Married or no, I shall be
as I was, and I must live in hiding or, if I want my
house and home — and you — then I must live each
day expecting death." His voice grew dull and hard.
He moved away from her, though still he looked
down into her raised eyes. He said, "Think, Pran,
before you change your virgin's vow, think what such
life would mean. For me, I am a man. It is the law.
I must live so, and what will be will be. But you — it
is an evil thing for you to wed a man so circumstanced
that each day when I come home alive to eat the
bread you've baked for me to eat you need to offer
prayers of thankfulness that I still live. And every
morning that your eyes open on you are obliged to
think, *Is this the day of death for him, my man.?'
Think of this, Pran. A virgin's life were better far
than this." He questioned furiously, "Is it not
so.?"

She stood before him, looking in his eyes. Her

226 PRAN OF ALBANIA

breath caught in her throat. Her heart beat fast.
Should she then, having gained him, suddenly give
him up and go back to her nun's life without him?

"No!'' The word burst from her angrily. "No,
Nush." She threw her head back, denying violently.
"No other life is better than a life with you." She
stopped, amazed at her own passion of utterance.
She dropped her voice, "Nush," she said, "other
women live as I must live with you. Do you think my
heart, then, is less brave a heart than that of any
woman of our tribes ? Do you think, then, I would
not gladly bear all I must bear in suffering and
anguish, being your wife — for you?" She dropped
her eyes, bending her head down.

"Pran," he spoke with tenderness, unsteadily,
"Pran, if you so choose, then we two stand as one
to bear this thing together." For a moment's time
she felt his hand touch her bent head, caressing.
Then, turning, he picked up her rifle, hung it on her
back, and said in a new strong voice, "Our fate is
not settled yet. There is still hope. The council
meets. You are a nun who eats and talks with men.
Go to Abate. The chiefs are met in Rrok Kola's
house. Inquire where that is and go inside. Listen,
and if you hear the side for blood waver toward
further peace, then — speak, Pran, speak, for me, for

NUSH AGAIN 227

US — our life and happiness!'* Hope gave his voice fire>
now. **You will do this?"

Pran heard, astounded. What was this daring thing
he counseled her? To go into the men's council, speak,
as though a man.'^ **0h, Nush, how can I?" Breath-
lessly she spoke.

"How can you noty Pran, knowing what we know,
that my life and your happiness in life rest on the
bessa kept ? Remember it is the last faggot of a too
great load that breaks the saddle's bands. Go — lay
your faggot on the side of peace. Dressed so, you
gain attention for your word^. The Friar will stand
with you. He is for peace always. Will you go,
Pran?" With the last words he set one hand on her
shoulder and with the other raised her chin up so that
she looked into his eyes.

Seeing those eyes and the blue-gray depths of them,
Fran's hesitation fled. Her fear melted away, and
where that fear had been rose strength of determina-
tion, of resolve. To speak for truce, for peace — for
Nush's life? What was so hard in that? To dare to
speak — for him? That took no daring.

She trembled with a sudden glad eagerness. Her
heart soared, and she laughed up into his serious face-
"The tongue is woman's weapon, you have heard.
We have no need of rifles, having this. Is it not so?

228 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Then, let me go, Nameless One. My woman's weapon
longs to do battle for you."

She turned so swiftly from him to be gone thatj
grasping her, he closed his fingers on the air. "Lumte
mir!" she called back to him in farewell.

'*Go on a smooth trail," she heard him answer.

"Smooth peace be with you!"

Her feet raced on the trail. She knew the turn to
take. There was no time to throw away. Where had
such courage come from as filled her now?

CHAPTER XIV

PRAN SPEAKS

AS PRAN turned off toward Abate she met an
old man. Greeting him, she made inquiry for
the house where the council was held.

"It is the third house after you pass the first corn-
fields/' he said. **It lies on the hillside near the
church. Rrok Kola is the richest man in Abate. His
family alone numbers over forty, and the chiefs
meet to-day in the great upper room. You will find
them there."

With thanks Pran hurried on. "Near the church."
The Friar would be there surely. As Nush had said,
he always spoke for peace. She had heard him speak
even against war. He too saw evil in these violences —
the feud and warfare. If only he could influence the
men! His influence was great, but being skirted in
that long brown robe girdled with rope his voice was
often discounted by the men. She knew some said he
wore a woman's garb and could not understand the
things that moved a man.

"I at least wear no skirt." She looked down at the

««9

230 PRAN OF ALBANIA

tight white legging-Hke garments that she wore.
Strange, men attached importance to one's dress.
Dress was but outer covering. What lay in a man's
heart — that was what counted. And then, the
Friar did not carry arms. She shifted her rifle strap.
She carried arms. Arms were the very symbol of a
man. On his gun rested a man's honor, so people
thought. The respect that others gave him seemed
to depend on this. Did not men look with ad*
miration on a man who had taken the lives of
several others, saying, "How brave he is!" To men
of such mind and habit how should she speak? What
could she say to change their understanding of the
good life held? She pondered. *' Wounds and death —
and ever — ^wounds and death — and wasted lives. We
mountaineers use these things too freely — hurting
ourselves, fighting against ourselves." What count-
less Hves would profit by a peace — the truce con-
tinued! Had not the bessa since the war brought
blessings innumerable? Men spared, by all cessation
of blood payment, to till the fields, to walk on any
trail, and meet together for hours of talk and singing
of ancient songs; fathers who lived and made their
children glad; husbands whose living saved their
wives from sorrow; children who grew unshadowed
by old wrongs in homes secure, inviolate.

PRAN SPEAKS 23 1

Pran's thoughts ran on, as rapid as her feet. " Did
not I vow, after the curse of war was made so plain
to me at Castrati, to set myself, all my life, against
these things — war, takings of life, blood-payment,
— all of that? Well, now I have my chance at least to
speak. I am not a chief or bairaktor. I cannot call a
council to stop war or feuds and settle them other
ways. But, as Nush said, I can do something maybe
to turn men's minds and make this peace go on. For
this peace must go on. Bessa between the tribes is
our first step toward a new world of peace. War
cannot end when every day men spill each other's
blood because of little quarrels. I cannot do much, but
I will do all I can, with all my might, for Nush and
for myself — and for our land."

She could not wait to reach the council place.
Knocking at the huge door of Rrok Kola's house, her
courage for a moment flickered down. "If I dare
speak !"

A woman opened, greeted. **They are above."
Pran heard from overhead voices in argument, then,
as she mounted the stairs, silence, and the Friar's
patient tones. In the great room, with its wide fire-
place set in the wall and chimneyed with stone, sat
many men, cross-legged on the floor, in a large
circle. The Friar, in the long brown robe of St.

232 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Francis, had risen to his knees to speak. No one
noticed Pran's entrance. At the side in the
half dark of the unwindowed place, three or four
ancient women of the tribe sat listening. They had a
right to speak at councils too. Which side would
they be on? Pran wondered. ''Being women like
myself, even though done with much of woman's
life, will they not speak for peace?"

The Friar's speech ended imploringly. "You men
have lived now months — over a year — without the
taking of blood. Live longer so. Plant your corn and
know that each shall live, whether in blood or not,
to harvest and eat that corn, and live a Christian life.
Remember the law of God — 'Thou shalt not kill!'
God lived before these mountains raised their heads
against the Albanian sky. He lived before your tribes
had life; before your Lek — the giver of your laws.
His law precedes Lek's Law. Keep it. 'Thou shalt
not kill!'"

Pran's heart beat fast. If they would only hear
and heed his words. How could she help ? What could
she say to them? Would men, great men, the chiefs
and bairaktors, give any ear to words coming from a
mere girl, dressed though she might be in a warrior's
clothing? When would she dare to speak? Not now —
not now.

PRAN SPEAKS 233

A chief answered the Friar's words with passion,
kneeling above the others there. "Honor is honor,
and blood must be paid. If he who kills goes down to
hell, then let me go to hell, my honor clean. Better
to enter hell an honorable man than find a way to
heaven with dishonor."'

Others spoke; some for and some against. Argu-
ment waxed fierce — vociferous. Men spoke at once
and shouted for their side. It seemed to Pran the side
for blood spoke most. The violence of their voices
deafened her.

Then one man with a strong eagle's face made plea
for peace. *T stand beside the Friar in this," he said.
"Debts have lain quiet for these many months.
Let them lie quiet longer. Who knows how soon the
Slavs may strike again? Knowing we brothers fight
among ourselves, will they not seize that moment to
invade our lands again ^ Together we repulsed them.
If we divide ourselves, fighting each other, where
shall be our strength? You serve your own foe's
purpose, taking blood. What more do they desire
than this, the Slavs, than that we kill each other to
the end and leave the land clear for them — our fields
to fatten Slavic flocks and herds? Renew the bessa,
and our sons grow up to strength and bear their guns
along with us, their hearts set with our hearts, their

234 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Strength beside our strength, against the enemy.
Were this not better than to send brave men out of
this Hfe and lose their arms and force, thus weaken-
ing with each man's death the wall Albania sets to
stop the foe?"

Talk rose again. Pran sat with hot cheeks and
breath coming fast. She must speak soon — must add
her little weight — for this last speech had made the
men take thought. The side for peace had more
adherents now. The balance swayed ever so slightly.

An aged woman beside Pran got up, addressed the
Friar. Silence fell on the men.

"Father," she said, **few women come to speak
like this. Men decide men's affairs, and women have
no voice. Why then have we come.^ Age gives the
right. Why age? What comes with age? Wisdom of
years. We bring that wisdom here, to help the tribes.
A child new born knows nothing; grows and learns.
Each year brings wisdom, till fourscore of years make
a man wise. My gray hair speaks of years beyond
your own or those of any man who is gathered here.
Hear me. 'Tis true I am no man, but I have suckled
men; and in those days long back, home and my
children made up all my Hfe. My work for them is
done. My woman's life is over now. What then lies
nearest me — nearest my heart? Good of the tribe

PRAN SPEAKS 23 J

and good of all the tribes. Only for that I speak. The
tribe we know is one great family. Do I not call each
woman sister.? More than that, I feel this bond of
blood binding on all the tribes. We of the mountains
are all one great House, our Head the chiefest of the
tribal chiefs. Can a house, then, take blood against
itself?"

She stopped and took her place again upon the
floor. The woman next her rose. *'I too have words
for all your ears to hear — if you will listen.'' The
Friar motioned to her to go on. She took a step
nearer the circle of the firelight. Pran saw her clear-
cut aquiline old face, lit by the flames into a
serene nobility of line. She spoke. Her voice was deep.
** Having lived long I have seen a hundred feuds;
and what did they amount to at the last ^. Good lives
and valuable gone down to death for matter smaller
than a flea's egg. Who profited } Not I, nor you, nor
those who died, nor him who caused that death. No
one at all. Think on the truth of this. If you live long
enough you'll see that truth. To some of you who
listen to me now the blood debt ranks large and im-
portant. Wait awhile. Make further peace and wait.
Wait even for age; wait till the years have flowed
like flooding water over these very things and hid
them, buried them out of all sight — beyond all

236 PRAN OF ALBANIA

moment, even. Then look back on this day, as I
look back on countless other days, and say, 'What
matter — and what gain?' Honor, you say?*' She
paused — and ended, raising one withered arm,
''Better a peace — free-going, happy homes. Honor
enough in that. This is my word!'' She turned and
leaned toward Pran in the half dark. Her sunken eyes
flared under her wrinkled brows. She whispered
fiercely, "Speak, girl. Old age has spoken. Now is the
time for youth to take its part!"

The woman's voice raised Pran to her feet. Her
heart made a wild hammering against her breast.
Her throat was dry, but through her slim body in its
strange garb there went a tremor of resolve. Her
feeling flared into words that clamored to be said.
She took one step out of the dark that hid her and
stood erect, her rifle, which she had not unslung,
across her back, her face illumined sharply by the
light from the great chimney place. A murmur ran
around the seated men. Surprise had stilled them.
All they could do was stare.

In the dead silence round her the old woman's last
words rang in Pran's ears. "Now is the time for youth
to take its part." She would speak, then, for youth
— for herself and Nush and all the others like them —

PRAN SPEAKS 237

young and with life to live. Would these men hear?
If only they would hear!

She spoke. With the first words the tumult in
her ceased. Her voice had quietness and strength.
Her thoughts cleared, and her words came easily.

"Wisdom of age has spoken. I would speak, having
nor age nor wisdom, only youth. I speak for those
who like myself are young.

"We play and sit beside the hearth and learn, and
then, once grown, we find ourselves alive in a world
that you have darkened with clouds of blood. These
feuds hang over us like evil daggers, strung on a hair
and threatening to fall; like lightning that strikes
unseen from out the sky on the guilty and the inno-
cent alike. I say the innocent, for we are that. No
one of us, the young, have started feuds, but we stand
payment for them, paying our tears, if women; our
lives, if men.

"A virgin sworn, I know a woman's life and now
can taste a man's. To both these lives blood debt
works evil things — disaster, shattered homes, father-
less children. Being young and unused to life we feel
these things. How can we help but question violence
and ask, as wisdom asked just now, 'What gain?
What gain?'"

238 PRAN OF ALBANIA

She Stopped and looked about the circle of men.
In face and costume each was Hke Ndrek. It seemed
as if she pleaded with her own father. No one spoke.
Pran thought, "Fathers they are, as Ndrek is to
me." She spoke again. ''You all have children, as my
father has. You love them. I have seen them climb
about you, seen you touch them with the hands of
love. When food is scarce you will deny yourselves
to give them food. Why, even taking blood, you say
you take it that their lives shall be unsullied by dis-
honor. Is it not so.f^" Heads moved and Pran went
on. ''Giving so much, why can you not give all?
A life without threat of death for evil never done.
What man is there among you that would choose evil
for any child of his.'* And yet, ending this bessa,
all you do for us, the young, is curse the very life
youVe given us. Is this our law? Then it were better
broken. But you need break no law to lift this curse.
Make bessa over — follow the law in that. Truce sul-
lies no man's honor.

"Give us, the young, a chance to live our lives free
of old evil; so that each dawn we see shines for us on
a world of law, untouched with blood.

"Think of yourselves, too. Each of your hearts
would break, seeing your son brought home between
two men, his blood poured out. You fear no danger

PRAN SPEAKS 239

for yourselves, it's true. Fear, then, for these who pay
an unjust debt, your sons, in whose own strength and
courage you would, as fathers, take your share of
joy — seeing them grow, unscathed, to man's estate,
a glory to our mountains and our tribes — the Eagle's
Sons."

She ceased to speak and stepped back into the
dark. A man's voice cried out, "Glory to your mouth.
You speak a woman's words with a man's sense."

The Friar rose to his knees again. His voice was
moved. **When old and young implore 'tis time to
heed. The old have wisdom, but the young have life.
Free them for living. Decision lies with you."

Pran heard. A sudden weariness swept over her.
Had anything availed ^ Few voices spoke, and those
that spoke were soft, half whispering. Had it all been
in vain.? She closed her eyes there in the darkness,
waiting what seemed an eternity of minutes. "Asht
eghel," it was Fate. Let come what would. She had
done all she could. Custom was too strong. The
world she had visaged at the Castrati fight could not
come true. Men's hearts were shut to it. Their eyes
were blind. How foolish she had been to try to change
unalterable things. She thought of Nush. A lump
rose in her throat. Under her shut lids she felt the
sting of unshed tears. "What gain? What gain?"

240 PRAN OF ALBANIA

She felt a hand touch her arm. One of the women
spoke to her softly. "Look, morgeshe, it is peace,"
she said.

Pran looked. She saw the men gather close about
the Friar, who with a pen and paper wrote their
words. She heard, and her heart soared with thank-
fulness to hear. "The bessa shall go on. A truce is
sworn. We live at peace." Chiefs marked the page.
The Friar wrote their names. He thrust the document
inside his robes. Pran saw his tired face beam with
delight. It seemed to her as if a light shone from it.
She heard him murmur to himself, "For once they
listen to good counsel, like children following their
father's words, obedient — and Christian every one.'*
Laughter was on his lips. The men laughed too.
Hands shook and cheeks were pressed to other
cheeks. The fire, piled high with faggots, gave
a great flame that lit the darkest corners of the
room. "It is the radiance of peace," thought Pran
as she rose to make farewells.

With a singing heart she took the trail back to the
north and Thethi. Nush would soon hear. The sun
was too low for her to find him now. She had done
battle for him, she had laid her faggot on the
load. The thing was done. His life and hers were
safe.

PRAN SPEAKS 24I

She hurried. She must get home, for much more
lay ahead of her. To-night she would tell Ndrek and
Lukja of her changed vow. The witnesses could all
be notified. Life would start fresh — unshadowed —
glorious.

Lukja's face shone with joy, hearing her news.
Ndrek looked at her, smiling. "Women's ways are
past the understanding of a man," he said, but in
the look of his blue eyes Pran saw shining a deep hap-
piness beyond his words' meaning.

She herself lay beside Dil that night, feeling
exulting joy. She was alive again after a sort of dying
— that was it. She said to Dil, **The fire of my Hfe
had burned out to gray ashes. Now faggots are piled
and someone blows the coals. The whole of it flares
into sharp tongues of flame."

With the dawn that flame burned furiously. Pran
changed her clothing for her girl's dress, and without
knowing what she herself intended she started out on
the trail. She took her way to the spot where yester-
day she had met Nush.

"He will not be there still," she told herself, yet
knew he would.

She saw him waiting for her.

"Long life!"

^Long life! You heard?"

£42 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"I heard. I even heard your words had turned the
men." His face was aHve with joy.

"Strong words were said beside those that I said."

"Pran, Pran — " he had her hands in his — "my
heart is prouder of you than my tongue can say."
He paused, then said, "You are a girl again."

She laughed. "Yes, and besides, I am betrothed to
you. I should not be here seeing you like this. Only a
moment we can talk, Prendnush. We cannot meet
again. But I had to see you this once and say fare-
well "

He interrupted her. "Until the wedding season,
that is all. A short farewell. The summer passes fast,
and then the leaves fall — and — you come to me."
He spoke the last words softly.

Pran dropped her eyes and said, "I have taken off
courage with my man's clothing. Even now I fear to
stay with you, being a woman again and your be-
trothed." She laughed a little, pulling at her hands
that he held tightly.

"If it is farewell, then let it be well said," Nush
answered. "Come farther from the trail, for if one
passed, the scandal of our meeting would be known."
He drew her oflFthe trail. "Come with me, and, since
It is forbidden me to speak of love, then I will sing of
it. For I know a song that lovers sing — and I am that

PRAN SPEAKS 243

to you. And doubly so since yesterday you dared
against all custom to speak out for me and spoke so
bravely. Come, Pran," he begged.

Half unwillingly she followed him down the hill
that the trail hugged so closely, to a deep glen of
beech wood.

On the soft grass she sat and felt her heart thrill
with the joy of happiness secured, and past all loss
and danger. He threw himself on the ground at
her feet and lay, chin on his hands, looking up at
her.

"Here is a secret place, and here we say our last
farewell until our wedding day. Hear then the song
I've kept to sing for you — for your ears only, Pran."

Through the beech leaves that budded over them
the spring sun shone, and a soft breeze of spring blew
through the glen. Pran's heart seemed carried up-
ward on the high, lilting tune that Nush sang now.
The words of the song she had not ever heard.

*'How beautiful was the month of May
When we wandered and lingered on the

great mountain.
We stood and heard the cataract's thunder.
Do you still hold that beauty in your
heart.?

^44 PRAN OF ALBANIA

"All about US the trees were in bud,
The birds all sang and the flowers bloomed,
The nightingale sang *gurra gurra.'
Do you still hold that beauty in your
heart?"

Pran's happiness overflowed in her eyes. She put
her hands on Nush*s shoulders. "Glory to your
mouth, Prendnush, Son-of-Prenk, glory to your
mouth. The song was made for us.''

''Not the song only, Pran, but all the world," said
Nush. "Look about you. The sun and the breeze and
the blossoming branches are shining and blowing and
blooming for us — for you and me alone."

"If we stay longer," smiled Pran, "you will be
making a song of your own, Nush." She stood, and
Nush too got to his feet. Pran regarded him almost
severely. "Nush, Nush," she said, "I cannot stay
here a moment longer. It is not lawful for a girl to
talk with her betrothed. Would you have me break
all the laws of the mountains for you?"

Nush's eyes sparkled. "All but one," he said, "all
but the law that makes autumn the season for
weddings."

"Enough; I am going," said Pran, unrelenting,
though her eyes were softer than her tones. "You

PRAN SPEAKS 245

will not see me again — not till the veil is raised and
you find out who it is they have wed you to/'

"I shall be surprised as any bridegroom ever was,"
assured Nush, "and much more pleased than most,
that's sure."

They laughed together. ** Glory to you!" Pran
started back to the trail.

**Go smoothly, little keeper of my heart," called
Nush.

She turned, and her eyes met his eyes in a tender-
ness of parting she would not permit herself. ** Peace
to you, Prendnush!" she said and left him standing
there on the sun-flecked grass, gazing after her.

CHAPTER XV

FRAN ' S DAY

PRAN spun and wove, and her heart sang with
joy. What more could Hfe give than this?
Safety for those she loved, and then — to go to Nush
at the wedding time.

Dil shared her happiness, helped her with all her
work. "No bride shall have more cloth and spun
wool than you, nor more pairs of well-knit wool socks,
brave with your tribal pattern," she told Pran. And
Dil herself had her own sense of content, for there was
rumor that a fine young man from Shoshi wished her
in marriage, though as yet betrothal payment to
Ndrek had not been made. Thought Dil, "Lul
grows more helpful to Lukja every day, and in two
years or more I can go to my own house with a good
conscience." Thinking these things she worked all
the harder on Pran's wedding clothes.

Notz and the twins lent strong arms to Ndrek.
The herds increased, and things went well. The
Thethi household prospered.

Lukja's face shone. She said, *'My heart is glad to
see my girl wed so. Better a woman's life than half a

246

pran's day 247

life. I shall rejoice indeed seeing Ndrek's grand-
children, blood of his blood." She got out her own
wedding ornaments and showed them all to Pran.
"See this — and this." She shook out the chains of
silver coins and medals, the colored beads against
the evil eye, the fine-wrought filigree of silver wires.
"These shall be yours. You will be gayly dressed.
No bride more splendid than my girl shall be."

One day when Pran and Lukja were alone Pran
broke her silence about Nush and told how she had
met and seen him, how she had taken her vow for
love of him only. She even told about the meeting
with him in the spring. Lukja had heard about
Pran's council speech, heard with astonishment and
yet with pride.

Now she said, " If all our women felt so we might
make headway against the feud and all the sorrow it
brings us, being women. But ancient custom holds us
— is too strong. Always we say, 'Asht adet,' it is
custom. Custom is slow to change. And then, not
knowing we ourselves do the thing, we say, *Asht
eghel,' it is Fate; and there we end."

"I sometimes think," said Pran, "Fate is ourselves.
At any rate, I took mine in my hands and changed it
— for myself and so for Nush."

Lukja went on. "Ndrek need not know everything

248 PRAN OF ALBANIA

we know. Men live a different life from women and
understand only that life. He thinks you were in
love, perhaps, but knows not how it came to pass or
that it was Prendnush. Better to keep all this be-
tween ourselves."

"Ndrek is satisfied," said Pran, "seeing my hap-
piness. And then, besides, Prenk's brothers have
given a generous price to him for me. After I took
the vow I thought of that, and how Ndrek, in need of
flocks and gold after the war, had lost some wealth
through me."

Lukja threw back her head. "His heart regretted
more that you had turned your back on living out a
woman's life," she said. "He felt your own un-
happiness and never spoke to me of loss of his."

Ndrek suspected that the women knew things he
did not know. But he never asked. Instead, his blue
eyes flashing with humor, he made sport of Pran,
saying, "Look at the shamefaced bride. She deems
that woman never felt before the love that she will
feel for her own man."

One night they sat around the hearth, and Nik
and Gjon played "Chicken's Leg" with string. Notz
sat with Lul beside him, one arm around her. And the
two girls and Lukja sat together knitting on colored
socks and shputa for the bride.

PRAN S DAY 249

Ndrek teased Pran. "What makes you think that
women love their husbands? Mothers love sons and
sisters love their brothers; but wives? — Wife's love
is something else. Have you not heard the poem
about the three women — mother, sister, and wife — and
how the man asked each one in turn how long she
would make mourning for his death? I had it years
back from a man in Skodra. I'll say it for you. It is
called The Love of Women.' Listen, and hear what
sort of love it is wives give their husbands."

"Say it, Tata," said Pran laughingly. "I shall not
greatly heed. But glory to your mouth, Ndrek.
Begin."

Ndrek kneeled and, clearing his throat, he recited
in a dramatic voice the poem, "The Love of Wo-
men.

" 'Sister, Sister, answer me.
If I should die to-morrow,
How long a time would mourning last
And you remember sorrow?'

"'My brother, I would mourn for you
Until the mountain yonder
Should bow its head into the vale
And men declare a wonder.'

2SO PRAN OF ALBANIA

"'Mother, Mother, answer me,
If I should die to-morrow,
How long a time would mourning last,
And you remember sorrow?*

"'My son, my son, Fd mourn for you
Until the black crow's feather
Should change its color from that hue
And grow white altogether.'

** 'Wife, my wife, now answer me.
If I should die to-morrow,
How long a time would mourning last
And you remember sorrow?"

"'Dear husband, I would mourn for you
With all my soul and reason.
Until the leaves fell from the trees
At the next marriage season.' "

Ndrek burst into a great laugh at the last line.
"Hear," he said, "hear how the wife makes mourn-
ing only until she has got her another husband. The

other women mourn forever, but she !" He sent

a big pufF of smoke into the air. "So wives are. Are
you then otherwise, Pran, Daughter-of-Ndrek?"

pran's day 251

Pran reddened, laughing. **Wait and see, Ndrek.
Perhaps a daughter of yours has a stronger heart
than other women have, is more endowed with power
of loving from your own self who loved herself enough
to let her be *morgeshe' without opposing force or
question even."

"I did foolishly," admitted Ndrek, half serious
now, " but a man can but follow the counsels of his
own heart. So I did follow mine."

*'For that," said Pran, beaming at him across the
hearth, **for that Til give you grandsons in plenty
who shall sing your praise at hearths as yet un-
kindled."

"Rakia! And we drink the bride's good health!"
called Ndrek, smiling upon the whole group as though
he were a grandfather already.

Lukja brought out the tiny glass and the white
liquor in a fat-bellied bottle. She poured the glass full
and gave it ceremoniously to Ndrek.

"May Christ have praise!" said Ndrek, raising the
glass, "and may the beards of Prendnush's sons be
long and white ere they, as yet not entered into life,
shall leave it!" He took a sip, then passed the glass
to Notz, who sipped in his turn. The glass went
round the hearth, the women drinking last, as
custom was.

252 PRAN OF ALBANIA

Pran, sipping, thought of Nush and those dear
words of his: "Each time I took the Httle glass and
gave praise to our Lord I gave that praise to Him as
thanks for you — ^who should be mine one day!" Her
heart flowed over with her happiness.

The summer sped. Harvest was gathered in. The
leaves began to fall. Monday was day for wed-
dings. When her Monday came Pran sat sideways on
Ndrek's horse, in brand-new clothing, decked out with
colored scarves and hanging beads and medals, over
her face the scarf that hides the bride.

Ndrek led the horse by the bridle. The wedding
party followed amid glad shots of rifle fire and moun-
tain singing.

All had been done as custom said must be done.
Pran had stood weeping difiicult tears for three days
in a corner of the house. When on the wedding day
Ndrek had dragged her out roughly, as was demand-
ed of him who gave the bride, she had made out-
cry and clutched the frame of the door, holding her-
self back in mock resistance.

Now she sat, head drooped, so as to seem in sorrow
leaving her father's house and her girl's life. She knew
she must sit so with head bowed down until she and
the rest should meet with Nush's party at the halfway
mark between the houses. She would sit so, unmoving;

PRAN S DAY 253

neglect no particle of all that should be done; so
that no touch of ill luck or any evil omen could affect
this glad journey to her husband's home and so bring
down disaster on herself and Nash. She carried little
iron tongs, a bag of corn : symbols of the new home
and plenty in the new life. She thought, "I shall be
led three times around his house, and when I step
over the threshold it must be with my right foot
first, not stumbling, either." Lukja had warned her
not to stumble. That presaged evil. She would go
warily. She knew too that a little baby boy would be
laid in her arms to carry inside with her — token that
she would bear a man-child without fail. Boys, after
all, were best. At least, men thought so, and to-day
she herself suspected they were right.

Then three times round the hearth — yes, all should
be done exactly as it must be done, omitting noth-
ing. Together she and Nush would kneel before the
Friar in the church. And then would come another
standing in the corner with downcast modest eyes,
not daring to look up while others sang wedding
chants around her and women sat attending her, the
bride. The men would all feast royally without and
drink in rakia luck to the new home.

As she rode, head bent, she thought of each
ceremony with fresh joy fulness. Life seemed to offer

254 PRAN OF ALBANIA

her a golden door into a paradise. "But don't forget/'
Lukja had cautioned her, *' there will be wood and
water to be brought always."

"Of course," she had answered proudly, "I will
see to that."

Work.^ What did work matter? Living was work-
ing, but much more than that. And there would be
Nush always. Always.'' Yes, the bessa gave time to
make some sort of peace; time to adjust the blood
debt that still stood. Since Nush was marrying and
one man had been killed on either side, the Friar had
turned his influence to make a settlement, compound
the feud through payment and end it all forever. The
truce would cool men's blood. Nush would be safe.
Pran felt strong faith in that. That too was "eghel."

How slowly her horse went! She heard gay talk
about her, rifle shots. She must not speak. To speak
would mean that she would turn into a sharp-
tongued scold after her marriage. She rode in silence,
happy with her thoughts.

At last they reached the halfway spot. Here the
runners of the bridegroom — thirty fine young men —
would meet the bride. Pran knew they always raced
to see who would be first to reach her.

Though her eyes could not look, her ears were
strained to catch the shouts and cries, the hurrying

pran's day 25 s

footsteps, of those who sped to meet and take her to
her lover, Nush, who waited at the house.

Now she could hear them. Shots rang and voices
called. Pran's heart beat fast, a glad tattoo, a flutter-
ing of joy. The racing feet of those who came made
an ecstatic beating in her ears that matched that of
her heart. They came for her — to lead her to her
Nush. God speed them! God lend wings to all their
feet!

One reached and touched her, took her horse's
bridle. Now she might raise her head in gladness,
greeting the new life. Under her veil she raised her
eyes. Soon she would be with Nush.

The horse lurched along the rough trail while
Pran's mind went back to that night long ago when
all unwittingly she, as a girl, had bathed his mother's
feet. The night of her betrothal that had been! She
thought then of the entrance of the traitor into the
peaceful group and how she had heard all the talk of
the impending war, then and thereafter; till the war
had come, the bessa with it. The bessa that had
saved her Nush from death and her own life from
sorrow! How good God was! How all things turned
to good, blessing from seeming evil at the last !

She could feel the warm autumn sunshine and the
soft breeze that blew, could even feel the blueness of

256 PRAN OF ALBANIA

the sky and the stark beauty of the mountain rocks.
Longing made the way seem long to her, although
shouts and songs and rifle shots beguiled the time.

At last a thundering volley shattered the clear air.
They had reached the house.

Nush waited. Pran's eyes found him through her
veil. With one hand she touched the bear's-tooth
necklace that lay half hidden under her wedding or-
naments. Nush saw. Their love was plighted over.

Now, though Pran went with a proud quietness
through all the ceremonies, and though she stood and
heard the wedding chant, yet she did not heed, did
not hear. Under her downcast lids her eyes held now
the image of Nush, Prendnush, the son of Prenk, her
man. That image filled her heart. Tall, straight, he
was, in his tight white wool clothing seamed with
black glistening braid, and his supple waist was wound
with the brilliant folds of his girdle and belted
with cartridges. Under his white jacket he had on
a sleeveless one of red cloth worked with gold. His fine
shoulders were hidden by the long bunched fringes
of his black xhurdi, the garment that men wore in
mourning for the great ancient hero Skanderbeg.
On his head, wrapped with the snowy cloths that
framed his fine-cut features, was the round white
mountain cap the tribesmen wore. And slung across

PRAN S DAY 257

his back his rifle was, that sign of manhood and a
man's bravery.

**A son of Lek Dukagjin he is," thought Pran, "a
son of the mountains, and as strong as they." What
had the song said.^^ *' Brave men hand in hand . . ."
The words came back. It was she and Nush now who
would stand hand in hand, " me dore me dore " — stand
side by side always, setting themselves against all
evil — against the feud itself — and even war, stand on
the side of peace and fair and gracious living.

Outside a shout was raised, "Rrnoft! Rrnoft!"
Pran's heart answered the cry, *' Rrnoft!"

THE END

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